


Gossamer Threads

by Entrapdak_Nation



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Disabled Character, Eldritch, Escape, F/M, Hive Mind, Hordak (She-Ra) Redemption, Horde Prime Is His Own Warning, Horde Prime's Ship (She-Ra), Love, Outer Space, Parallel Universes, Revolution, Uneasy Allies, Violence, Wrong Hordak is Named Kadroh (She-Ra), lost heritage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:47:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28231158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entrapdak_Nation/pseuds/Entrapdak_Nation
Summary: This is a canon divergent fanfic that takes place after the events of "Destiny, Part 2". What if Hordak teamed up with Glimmer and Catra to escape from the Velvet Glove? What if he found his way back to Etheria, where an overwhelmed Rebellion and a broken Horde awaited him?
Relationships: Entrapta/Hordak (She-Ra)
Comments: 213
Kudos: 164





	1. Hope

From sleep, he slowly awakened.

Inside his head, silence, emptiness.

Images dimly appeared in the darkness of his mind. Specks of light? A green haze? Words, faces floated at the edge of the emptiness, just out of reach.

Weightless, he floated in liquid, without armor, without garments. The liquid was cool against his skin, while hot pain throbbed in his muscles and bones. His neck port felt raw and sore.

He opened his eyes. A vitrine. He was floating in a vitrine. Around him was liquid, faintly glowing chartreuse. A soft humming came from thick cables plugged into his ports. Beyond the glass were other empty pods.

Faces, voices, scenes bubbled up into his awareness. A woman with long fuchsia hair and red eyes. A green-lit laboratory. A throne shaped like a peacock’s tail. A toddler with blue skin and bat wings. Cables writhing around a man’s head like serpents. The toddler again, perched on his arm. The woman again, bright-eyed, smiling, lit from behind by yellow sparks.

_Imperfection is beautiful – You have given yourself a name -- As a scientist, I'm not going to stop – You have forgotten who you are – I’m a failure – But you have become an abomination!_

Slowly, names congealed out of the emptiness in his mind. Entrapta. Imp. The Fright Zone. The Velvet Glove. Horde Prime, emperor, savior, destroyer.

Hordak.

He had given himself a name. Hordak.

He began to remember. He remembered Horde Prime’s cold hands on his face, Horde Prime’s consciousness pouring itself into his mind, an emerald green arcus cloud billowing over his thoughts. Every doubt, every secret was illuminated with blinding light. His empire on Etheria. His throne. His little spy. His friend. His name.

His blasphemous name, his blasphemous empire had enraged his emperor. With a hand at his throat, Horde Prime had condemned his sins and vowed that he would be reborn. Then came a cable. A stab to his neck. Searing green light. Terror.

But now, Hordak was alone in his head. Prime was gone.

His limbs ached. His eyelids felt heavy. He closed his eyes.

Before him, in the space of his mind, stretched a black void. An emerald storm cloud – Horde Prime -- undulated in the distance. Many years before, Prime was a constant presence in his head. Now, Hordak could see his master, but could no longer feel his presence. Did Prime deem him unworthy to rejoin the hive mind?

Other objects appeared in the void. Orbiting the green cloud in all directions were thousands of crystalline spheres, with brilliant golden fires burning within each one. Gossamer green threads ran from the emerald storm cloud to each of the spheres. A vast sea of golden lights, sparkling in the void like stars, with living threads dancing among them.

Exhaustion overtook him. The cloud and sphere were replaced by darkness, by sleep.

“The strength of the Galactic Horde lies in its numbers. Here, in the nursery bay, my soldiers are cloned en masse from my genetic template.”

Horde Prime’s voice woke Hordak from unconsciousness. In the void of Hordak’s mind, the green storm cloud was close now, as were four of the blazing crystal spheres. 

When he opened his eyes, Hordak saw Horde Prime in his long white robes, standing outside the vitrine several yards away. Flanking Prime were four clones, standing at attention, impassive and silent.

Four clones. Four spheres, now close to him in the void of the hive mind. Were all those spheres his brothers? Why could he see them now?

Standing in front of Prime, staring into one of the cloning vitrines, were two young women. One, a stocky woman with short hair that shimmered. The other, a wiry feline woman with long, wild hair.

“It takes only eight Etherian days to create a mature clone,” Prime explained. “Each one is programmed with all the knowledge he will need to serve his emperor. Cybernetic augmentation makes them stronger and faster. A miracle of science. Wouldn’t you agree, Queen Glimmer?”

Queen Glimmer. Hordak slowly remember her. An Etherian princess. An opponent. A leader of those who opposed his Horde.

“The Sacrament of Clarity takes place soon after a clone emerges,” Prime continued. “It binds his mind to me, letting me see his thoughts and pilot his body. Afterwards, he adores his emperor above all else. He would gladly die for the glory of Prime.”

Glimmer gazed into one of the vitrines, saying nothing.

“No matter how many are struck down, more of their brothers can be cloned to replace them,” Prime said. “Over here are reconditioning chambers. Injured clones are brought here for accelerated healing. Injuries that would incapacitate an ordinary warrior for months can be repaired in a matter of days.”

The feline woman stood in front of Hordak’s vitrine. Her wide eyes locked with his half-closed eyes, and she clenched her jaw as she stared at him. Through the liquid and glass, Hordak recognized Catra’s face.

“Why did you come back to this?” Catra whispered.

Memories stirred. Mocking laughter. War plans. A city by the sea in flames. A crystal wrenched from his armor, then agony. A lever, and a portal opening. _Nothing matters but this mission – Defect – Let the princesses in? -- We’re going to show them all – Vanity projects – And I don’t need you!_

“Do you see now?” Prime asked his guests. “The futility of resisting the light and order I bring?”

Catra slowly backed away from Hordak’s vitrine, frowning. Prime walked up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She tensed.

“Oh, that rare error will be reconditioned enough to function,” Prime explained to Catra. “He’ll be sent back to Etheria. To fight until he perishes. Death in the service of Horde Prime is a great honor, one he will earn soon.”

Prime turned to the four clones. “Escort Queen Glimmer and Catra to the banquet hall, I will join them shortly.”

Glimmer, Catra, and the clones disappeared. Now, Horde Prime stood before his vitrine, all four eyes glaring at Hordak’s face. Several moments passed in silence.

“Why can’t I see your thoughts?” Prime asked quietly. 

With weary eyes, Hordak gazed back at Horde Prime for several more moments. Suddenly, Prime slammed his fist against the vitrine glass.

“WHY CAN’T I SEE YOUR THOUGHTS?” Prime bellowed.

Prime stepped back from the vitrine, breathing hard. Then, he too disappeared.

Pain still burned within Hordak’s limbs. His spirit ached. He closed his eyes and slid back into unconsciousness.

A dull roar woke Hordak. The vitrine shook violently. The glow of the liquid dimmed, plunging him into darkness. Moments later, light returned. The vitrine was still and silent for minutes thereafter.

The aching in Hordak’s muscles had lessened, and the rawness in his neck port had dissipated. How long had he been recuperating in the reconditioning chamber? Hours? Days? Floating in the oxygenated vitrine medium, his mind growing clearer in the silence, Hordak felt an emptiness spreading in his chest.

It had all been for nothing. All the conquests of the Etherian Horde seemed so futile now. So many soldiers trained, battle plans woven, villages invaded, and cities incinerated, only to be met with Horde Prime’s insults and a cable to the back of the neck. So many years, wasted.

But wasn’t Prime a just lord, rewarding the faithful? Had he not served Horde Prime faithfully? Hadn’t he worked tirelessly to conquer for Prime’s glory and return to his side? Why had Prime punished his devotion? Why had his piety earned him nothing but wrath?

Memories of Entrapta and Imp pushed their way into his thoughts. Imp’s smile when Hordak rubbed his cheeks. The gentle weight of the child resting on his shoulder. The light in Entrapta’s eyes when Hordak spoke to her of portals and faraway planets. The excitement in her voice as she described her engineering plans.

Both were forever beyond his reach now. Imp had been left behind in the Fright Zone. Was he flitting through the hidden corners of the Fright Zone, lonely, alone? Were kindly Horde soldiers caring for him? Had the Rebellion kidnapped him? Hordak would never know. And what of Entrapta? Had Beast Island’s pain-signal and flesh-eating creatures slain her? Was she still alive, wandering the wilderness, wondering why he had abandoned her? Hordak would never know. He had failed them.

Hordak bared his teeth. Tears spilled out of his eyes and floated in the green liquid. He clenched his fists and trembled.

So many sacrifices, and for what end? Weren’t Hordak’s efforts plain to see? Where was Prime’s love? Where was his just wisdom? 

An animal scream poured out of his throat. More tears seeped out of his eyes, floating around his face. His fist struck the vitrine glass.

Entrapta was lost to him, and possibly dead. Imp was lost to him. Horde Prime’s love was never to be his. At the end of it all, Hordak had nothing. _Nothing._

His fist struck the glass a second time. Hordak screamed again, punching a third time. With a loud crack, a break appeared in the vitrine glass. The break grew, making crackling sounds as it spread upward and downward through the glass. Then, the glass shattered outward. Green liquid and glass fragments spilled onto the floor outside the chamber. 

As oxygenated vitrine medium poured out, Hordak sunk to the floor of the tank. Slumped at the bottom of the now empty chamber, with wet blue hair covering one eye, arms and legs at odd angles, he coughed violently. With each cough, green liquid flew out of his nose and mouth. At length, the coughing stopped, and he inhaled a long breath of air through his mouth. The air felt cold and harsh in his lungs. He shivered.

“There he is. Found him,” said a hoarse woman’s voice. Hordak heard two sets of footsteps running nearer.

“Watch your feet. There’s glass everywhere,” warned another feminine voice. 

Suddenly, Glimmer was standing in front of the damaged vitrine, staring at him through the giant hole in the glass. Her face was pale, and her eyes were wide. In her left arm, she was carrying his boots against her ribs.

A moment later, Catra appeared next to her. In her right hand, Catra was dragging the upper portion of his old exoskeleton, its components spread apart and connected with metal filaments. Slung over her left shoulder was his black dress.

“We’re all getting out of here,” Catra announced hoarsely. “We need your help. We help _you_ , and you help _us_.”

“Hordak, we have things you want. Things you need,” Glimmer added, putting the boots down. “I know what happened to Entrapta. The day before Prime took us, three of my friends went to Beast Island to rescue her. They came back. One of them fired at you in the Fright Zone.”

Glimmer leaned into the hole in the glass. “If Entrapta is still alive, she’s with my people. If you want to see her again, I can take you to her at Bright Moon. But we _have_ to get out of here, and we need your help.”

She extended a hand to Hordak. “Please,” she pleaded.

Hordak stared into the young queen’s eyes, his mouth open. _Entrapta might not be dead._ Entrapta could still be alive. If he could return to Etheria, he could see her again, tell her that he hadn’t forgotten her, apologize for everything. Hope had appeared.

He pulled the cables out of his neck and abdominal ports. Unsteadily, he planted his feet on the floor of the vitrine. He placed his right hand in hers.

As Glimmer helped a stooping Hordak step out of the hole in the glass, Catra coughed and cleared her throat. Glimmer shot her a worried glance. Hordak stood to his full height and looked down at Catra, who had placed the exoskeleton armor on the floor. He noticed small red spots – petechiae – in her eyes as she returned his gaze, frowning.

“We found your armor on that table. But there’s something else you need too,” she said, reaching into a pocket on her right sleeve. She pulled out a pink diamond-shaped crystal, engraved with First One’s script. “You need this to power it. You can have it back. Just help us escape.”

The pink crystal sparkled in the light of the nursery bay. Hordak was reminded of the day when Entrapta gave him the crystal, the armor, the realization that his imperfections were beautiful.

“I … will help you. We’re returning to Etheria,” he answered breathlessly.


	2. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hordak, Glimmer, and Catra navigate hidden corners of the Velvet Glove during their escape. They make their way to a Galactic Horde ship, but clone soldiers will not let them leave without a fight.
> 
> Content warning: violence and blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes a tragedy involving one of the characters. Before anyone gets upset, here's a small spoiler: She-Ra has healing and resurrection powers, remember? Stay tuned.

The floor of the catwalk felt cool and wet underneath Hordak’s feet, and was littered with glass shards. Most of the liquid had spilled off the catwalk onto the ground floor. He slid his feet into the metal boots, then slipped the black dress over his head onto his frame. His muscles ached as he moved, but not as severely now.

In the glass of a nearby empty vitrine, he saw his reflection. His eyes glowed red. Vitiligo still formed jagged blue and white patterns on his arms and shoulders. Holes still gaped between the radius and ulna bones on his arms, but were narrower than before. The muscles in his upper body had gained mass, but were nowhere near as toned as those of his healthy brothers. The reconditioning chamber had healed some of the damage inflicted by his cloning defect, for now.

Glimmer turned from him to look over the railing of the catwalk at the nursery bay ground floor. No clones soldiers had entered the room so far. Hordak noticed that some of the hair on the back of her head was singed. Some of the violet leather on the back of her left boot had been seared off, revealing a burn wound on her left heel.

“Where … did you get those injuries?” he asked.

“The ship lost power a few minutes ago. The walls shook and everything went dark. The force field outside our room went down, so we made a run for it. Then, it came back up again behind me as I was fleeing. My hair and heel got burned.”

“If she’s been a split second slower, the force field would have sliced her in half when it came back up,” Catra pointed out.

Catra held up the exoskeleton. Hordak bent over and slid his head and arms into the armor, whose components were spread apart. Once the exoskeleton was sitting on his torso, he stood straight and pressed a small button on the back of the collar. The components came together and sealed the exoskeleton. The armor was heavy, and he had to focus to remain upright and balanced. Catra extended the pink crystal in her palm, which he snatched away and clutched firmly, glaring at her. Catra glared back and said nothing.

In the diamond-shaped gap in the collarbone of his armor were two delicate wires. After affixing the wires to the back of the crystal, he inserted the crystal in its rightful place. Immediately, the aching in his limbs dissipated. A thrilling strength coursed through his muscles, and his nerves crackled with warm vitality. Hordak inhaled deeply.

He turned to Glimmer. “How did you two get in here without being seen? Did you teleport?”

Glimmer shook her head. “I can’t teleport here. I’m too far from the Moonstone.”

“We darted from room to room and hid. Well, I darted. She limped,” Catra explained. “The clones were running around everywhere. They were too distracted to notice us.”

“We don’t know what’s going on,” Glimmer said, “but if the clones are distracted, this might be our only chance to escape. Hordak, how do we get off the ship?”

Hordak narrowed his eyes. “If we can reach a launch bay, we can use a ship. We can’t travel through the hallways. Soon, the other clones will notice your absence and will search for you there. Crawling through the ventilation ducts would create too much noise.” 

He paused. “The service tunnels,” he realized. “Follow me.”

Catra hesitated. “Hordak, can’t Prime—"

“He can’t see my thoughts,” Hordak noted. "He won't know where we are."

Hordak stepped out of the green puddle and scraped the soles of his boots along a dry section of the catwalk floor. Catra and Glimmer did likewise. He led Catra and a limping Glimmer down the catwalk, past twenty empty reconditioning chambers. The nursery bay glowed a soft green from the light of the chambers and the hundreds of cloning vitrines beneath them on the lower floor.

The trio arrived at a wall at the end of the catwalk, just past an open staircase leading to the lower level. The wall was white and smooth, except for a silver panel with a greenish-yellow display screen, keypad, and blank black rectangle. Hordak pressed his left hand to the rectangle, which beeped. With a soft hum and a hiss, an eight-foot-high rectangular hatchway appeared in the seemingly smooth wall. 

Hordak opened the hatchway, revealing a dim green and white tunnel behind the wall. He gestured Catra and Glimmer forward, and they stepped into the tunnel. Hordak followed and closed the hatchway behind them.

Overhead lights activated, illuminating the tunnel. Panel after panel of screens and glowing green keypads covered the tunnel’s walls. Silver conduits gracefully curved around the panels. Sleek metal cylinders were embedded in the walls. The air was cold and dry, keeping the ship’s internal machinery cool.

Glimmer leaned back against a panel and sighed, lifting her injured heel slightly off the floor. Catra coughed, winced, and rubbed her throat.

Hordak felt motion in his mind. He closed his eyes, and in the hivemind, he saw two brilliant flaming spheres drawing near. Two brothers were coming closer.

“Shhh. Do not move,” he whispered. The three froze.

A few seconds later, rapid footsteps sounded from the other side of the hatchway. Baritone voices called out from the nursery bay.

“This one broke out!”

“Or _they_ broke him out.”

“Keep looking.”

More fleeting footsteps. Two blazing spheres darting to and fro before him in the hive mind. After several minutes, Hordak saw the spheres float away. He opened his eyes.

“They’re gone. Let’s go,” he said.

The three made their way into the tunnel, which stretched for hundreds of yards. Walking behind his former enemies, Hordak was puzzled.

"Why are you doing this? Fleeing?” he whispered. “You'd have a place in Etheria’s new order. Former leaders are spared and permitted to administer Prime's acquisitions, usually."

"No," Glimmer whispered grimly. She stopped, turning to face Hordak. Catra stopped as well.

"The Rebellion discovered a superweapon, the Heart of Etheria," Glimmer explained. "It's a magical energy weapon capable of taking out whole planets. The First Ones buried it in Etheria's core. Prime needs She-Ra and the other princesses to fire it. But firing it will kill people on Etheria’s surface.”

Glimmer sighed. “I won’t let him use my planet to destroy other worlds. And I won’t let him kill Etherians to do it.”

Hordak’s eyes narrowed. “How did he learn of this?”

Glimmer shot a knowing glance at Catra, who was learning against the tunnel wall, arms folded.

“Don’t look so offended,” Catra said to Glimmer. “I saved us both by telling him about the Heart.”

Catra turned her gaze to Hordak. "Now me? I'm not doing this anymore," she said flatly. "I spent how many years conquering? For what? I didn't gain anything, and I lost everything. This wouldn’t be any different.”

Under the service tunnel lights, Hordak could see the red spots in her eyes more clearly. The petechiae, the coughing, the hoarseness – he’d seen those symptoms in other clones and conquered leaders who offended Prime in some way.

“He strangled you,” Hordak realized.

Catra’s ears flattened. “He said I was being “evasive” about where to find She-Ra. The next thing I know, he’s holding me in the air by my throat, and everything is turning gray. I’m done. I’m not serving him.” She snarled. “It’s not the first time someone took the breath out of my lungs. I’ll live.”

Her ears perked up again. “Or maybe,” Catra whispered with a sneer, “maybe I just think Horde Prime’s an asshole, and keeping him from using his precious Heart is the perfect way to tell him to go scratch himself.”

The three reached the end of the service tunnel, which opened to a vertical shaft hundreds of feet across. Green and white lights sparkled against titanium machinery. The vertical shaft stretched upward and downward for what seemed like miles, sleek and clean and cold. A dizzying number of other service tunnels opened onto the shaft in both directions.

The hair on Catra’s tail bristled. She spun around and bared her teeth. “I heard something. The hatchway. They’re opening it. They’ll find us any second!”

Hordak gestured to two service ladders leading downward into the shaft. “The ladders. Go downward. Quickly. Glimmer, can you climb down with your injury?”

“I’ll have to,” she answered, lowering herself onto a steel ladder, grimacing. With each step downward on the ladder, she gasped. Catra followed down the same ladder. The two women stretched and wobbled, struggling to maneuver on ladders designed for seven-foot-tall clones. Hordak lowered himself onto the second ladder and descended alongside them.

“Go down four levels,” he instructed. “We’ll take the service tunnel there to the launch bay.”

The three descended the ladders in silence. After several minutes of downward climbing, they reached the service tunnel Hordak had pointed out. Glimmer rested her back against the wall of the tunnel and lifted her injured foot off the floor again.

“There’s something else,” Glimmer added. “Horde Prime asked about Entrapta.”

Hordak stiffened. Prime penetrated his memories of Entrapta during their psychic link, and now he knew of her genius.

“He said the strength-boosting armor she made was “most intriguing”, and that she could aid the Galactic Horde,” Glimmer said. “He’s looking for her too.”

Catra, who had been watching Glimmer, averted her gaze. Her tail twitched. “We should get moving. We need to reach the launch bay.”

The three made their way down the service tunnel. Glimmer limped, clenching her teeth, determined to move at a steady pace. At the end of the tunnel, Hordak leaned toward Glimmer and Catra.

“Horde Prime’s genetic code is the master key to all of the Galactic Horde’s technology,” he whispered. “The ships will only respond to a pilot with Prime’s genetic code – either a clone, or Prime himself. It’s meant to prevent outsiders from using any of his technology against him. Once we board a ship, I will pilot it out of the Velvet Glove.”

Glimmer nodded. Catra stood straighter.

“And if any guards try to stop us, we’ll make them sorry they were ever cloned,” Catra said.

Hordak closed his eyes and stared into the hive mind. The emerald green cloud was churning. Above and below him, spheres were darting to and fro. In the distance, two spheres were floating in their direction.

“We have to move quickly. Be ready to fight. Are you both ready?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Ready.”

Hordak pressed his left hand to a black rectangle on the tunnel wall. With a hum and a hiss, the hatchway opened. The three walked into the launch bay, a pristine white runway where dozens of green and white Galactic Horde ships sat side by side. A wide door was open to the rest of the Velvet Glove. A sleek control panel sat beside the door. The ships were long, thin, and sharply pointed, each occupying an aisle divided by a transparent wall with sliding doors.

Hordak, Glimmer, and Catra ran toward the nearest ship. Hordak slammed an open hand onto a black rectangle on the starboard side of the ship. Double doors rose out of the smooth, seamless metal and parted.

“Stop!” shouted two male voices behind them. Two clones armed with crackling shock batons were sprinting toward them.

“Stay behind me!” Hordak bellowed, charging at one of the clones. Catra ran in front of Glimmer, fist clenched, and punched the second clone’s jaw.

Hordak grappled with a soldier wearing the garb of a young clone – a white cuirass and black tights -- rather than the white tabard of clones more than one month old. Hordak wrestled the shock baton away from the young clone, hurling it to the side.

“I don’t want to kill you, brother! Stand down!” Hordak demanded, grappling with the young man.

His opponent yanked his right arm free and punched Hordak in the abdomen. “Glory be to Horde Prime!” he cried. 

Hordak’s hold loosened for a split second, long enough for the clone to free his left arm. The young clone grabbed hold of the collar on Hordak’s exoskeleton and swept out Hordak’s leg. The two men fell to the floor, struggling. Hordak planted one hand on the young clone’s collarbone and the other hand on his head, preparing to push him off.

Suddenly, a presence collided with Hordak’s mind. A fiery, blazing consciousness overwhelmed him. The image of a green gossamer thread danced in his mind’s eye. Thoughts that were not his own spilled into his head: _For the glory of Horde Prime! The apostate must be struck down! The Promised One will deem me worthy!_

“NO!” Hordak shouted, recoiling from the onslaught. His mind writhed against the words, against the presence shouting inside his head. The green gossamer thread undulated like a serpent, pulsing with unearthly energy. Hordak screamed, pushing against the gossamer thread with his mind.

Something snapped. Something tore in the hive mind.

The green gossamer thread split in two. Then, it faded into nothingness.

The young clone froze. Hordak and the young clone stared at each other, wide eyed, for a harrowing second before Hordak dislodged himself. The moment he removed his hand from the young clone’s head, Hordak was alone in his mind again.

“I cannot … feel … Horde Prime,” the young clone whispered in a small voice. “I cannot hear him.”

Hordak rose to his feet, panting. Did the two of them just telepathically link? Horde Prime linked with him by touching his face. Had he unwittingly linked with the clone when he touched his head? Impossible. How?

“I am alone?” the young clone whimpered. “I am alone! ALONE!”

The young clone curled up on the floor, howling.

“What did you do to me? How will Horde Prime know that I am loyal?” he sobbed.

Hordak stared at the weeping clone in horror.

Meanwhile, Catra had been fighting the mature clone, who was clad in a white tabard, white cape, and black tights. After punching him and knocking the shock baton out of his hands, Catra bobbed and weaved. The clone was unfazed by the blow, moving as fast as Catra, blocking her punches and claw swipes.

“I’m not going to rot here! I’m going back to Etheria!” she told him.

Horde Prime’s earlier neck-lift had not left her unscathed. Soon, she was breathing heavily, and a cough burst out of her mouth. The split-second distraction was all the mature clone needed. He swiped.

Blue talons met flesh. Catra’s neck now bore four fresh gashes. She clutched her neck with both hands, blood spilling through her fingers.

“Catra!” Glimmer shouted.

Hordak spun around. Catra was teetering, clutching a neck wound, blank faced. Glimmer, who had been standing at the door of the ship, was running toward her.

““The wicked must be cast out from Prime’s light!” the mature clone growled. “You, blasph—"

The clone’s insults were interrupted when Hordak lifted him off the ground, hoisted him over his head, and threw him at a third clone about to enter through the launch bay doors. The clones collided with loud grunts and fell down on the floor in the hallway.

Before they could regain their bearings and stand, Hordak had already torn the twelve-foot-high, six-foot-wide control panel out of the wall beside the door. He slammed the pillar of sparking machinery against the door, blocking it for now.

The young clone’s sobbing echoed through the launch bay.

Catra had collapsed. Crimson puddles had formed on the white floor. Glimmer had dragged a limp Catra into the ship by the fabric on Catra’s shoulders. Hordak ran onto the ship after them.

The bridge of the ship was a gleaming ring of titanium, black computer screens, and glowing green keypads. Tall and wide windows allowed for a panoramic view of what was outside the ship. At the front of the bridge was a towering black display screen. In the center of the bridge was a circular dais, partially rimmed with a silver railing, its floor adorned with the green Horde symbol. A thin cable, rooted in the floor, was draped over the railing. Two poles, about four feet high and topped with metal spheres, were affixed to the dais floor. 

The bridge lacked chairs, however. Glimmer sat on the floor, with an unconscious Catra’s head resting on her lap. One of Glimmer’s hands was pressed to the wounds on Catra’s neck. Both women were covered in blood.

Hordak’s heart was pounding. He flung open a compartment near the floor, underneath one of the computer panels. Out of the dense machinery and circuitry, he pulled a gray sphere about the size of an apple, with sparking wires dangling from its base. The ship’s tracking device had to be removed, or the Velvet Glove could track the ship’s escape route.

Tracking device in hand, Hordak darted to the door of the ship and hurled the device into the launch bay. On the other side of the launch bay door, a growing group of clones were slamming against the uprooted computer panel, furiously trying to dislodge the obstacle.

The young clone continued to weep. As the clone wailed, a painful memory stirred.

_He wept. He had been sent to die in battle against the Toevah revolt. And he had failed. He had fallen through a spacetime anomaly, and suddenly his ship had crashed. The lights in the bridge had gone dark. A faint smell of smoke drifted through the air._

_He could not feel Horde Prime's presence. He could see no green holiness in the center of his being. Inside his mind was only darkness, emptiness. For days he sat, weeping, curled up in a ball on the bridge of his wrecked ship. He was alone._

In that moment, with the young clone’s crying ringing in his ears, Hordak made a decision. He ran out of the ship, seized the clone by the bicep, and pulled him to his feet.

“Get up! We’re leaving.”

With a hand wrapped around the clone’s bicep, Hordak pulled the crying clone into the ship. The clone, too disoriented to resist, followed.

Once inside, Hordak pressed buttons on the wall, and the door closed. He threw open a compartment containing restraints, which were normally used when transporting “guests” to the Velvet Glove. He found a pair of large wrist cuffs and bound them to the dazed clone’s wrists.

“What are you doing!?” Glimmer shrieked. “He’s one of them!”

“He was disconnected from the hive mind!” Hordak replied. “If I leave him, Horde Prime will condemn him as a defect. He'll sentence him to death!”

At the mention of Horde Prime, the young clone began weeping anew.

“Has Horde Prime forsaken me!?”

The young man slid his back down against the wall of the bridge until he was sitting on the floor, his head bowed. 

Outside, a clamor of male voices was growing louder. A banging noise sounded repeatedly as the clones threw themselves against the barricade.

Hordak was breathing quickly, and a bead of sweat ran down the side of his head. He stepped onto the dais, plugged the cable into his neck port, wrapped his hands around the two metal spheres at the end of the two poles, and inhaled.

“Systems on.”

The spheres under his hands briefly flashed green, then beeped. Lights came on above them. Computer screens around the bridge glowed with green script. The giant screen at the front of the room now showed the launch bay and a scroll of green numbers. A deep humming rose from the back of the ship. Two holographic screens appeared in front of the dais, on either side of Hordak’s head.

“Hangar one. Open.”

On the giant screen, double doors parted at the end of the hangar. Beyond them was space, stars, freedom. Amidst the smell of blood, the sound of weeping, the pounding of his heart, Hordak gave the command.

“Launch.”

The hum from the back of the ship grew louder. The ship slid forward. In a matter of seconds, it emerged from the Velvet Glove into space.

Glimmer and Hordak both gasped at what appeared on screen. Before them was Etheria, a colossal green and blue planet beneath the Velvet Glove. Floating above Etheria were hundreds of Galactic Horde ships.

 _Why a fleet this size? Etheria is primitive,_ Hordak thought.

A dazzling green light shone through the windows of the bridge. Behind the ship, a blazing green light was shining off of a single point on the side of the Velvet Glove. The tractor beam was about to deploy.

“What is that?” Glimmer asked.

“A tractor beam!”

Hordak clenched the metal spheres. His mind sent a flurry of commands to the ship’s computer through the cable in his port.

“Initiate portal jump!”

A low tone sounded through the ship. Space folded. Light warped. Etheria, the Velvet Glove, and the invasion fleet distorted and faded into nothing. Now, before them was only empty space and distant stars.


	3. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra makes the ultimate sacrifice. Light years from Etheria, Hordak, Glimmer, and the young clone are safe from Horde Prime, for now. The young clone struggles with his disconnection from the hive mind.
> 
> Content warning: blood and character death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagined Horde Prime inviting Glimmer and Catra to a banquet like the one we saw in season 5. The foods he served in the season 5 dinner scene looked like American foods from the 1960s and 1970s. So, in this story, Prime destroyed 1970s Earth (“Urth”), but not before collecting ingredients and recipes for guacamole, aspic (“ess-pick”), and brisket (“briss-cat”).

“Where are we?”

Outside the ship’s windows, and on the display screen, Glimmer could only see inky blackness, nebula clouds, and thousands of stars.

“The edge of the Tolosani system,” Hordak answered. He pulled the cable out of his neck port and stepped down from the dais. “The Velvet Glove’s tractor beam was about to activate. I had to transport us far away, or we’d be recaptured.”

Glimmer sat on the floor of the bridge, with Catra’s head on her lap. Catra was not moving. Both women’s clothes were soaked with blood. Hordak knelt next to them and placed two fingers on Catra’s carotid artery, opposite her neck wounds. No pulse.

“She’s gone,” Glimmer said softly.

Silently, Hordak and Glimmer both stared at the now-still Catra.

Gently, Hordak lifted up the cat-woman’s body, now limp, smelling of copper, and carried her to the room behind the bridge. Glimmer followed, limping.

Between the ship’s bridge and engine room were the sleeping quarters. Four hard cots, arranged on two double decker bunks, were embedded in the walls on either side of the room. The cots were each covered with a white sheet but lacked blankets. A small square pad sat at the head of each bed, providing support for the sleeper’s neck but little in the way of cushioning. Past the cots, underneath two white cabinets, sat two long obsidian chambers on the floor. The jet black chambers were eight-feet-long and cylindrical.

Holding Catra’s body in his left arm, Hordak slid open one of the obsidian caskets with his right hand. Then, with both hands, he laid Catra’s body inside. Inside the long, wide chamber, Catra looked small.

“When clones die in battle, their brothers place their bodies in these stasis chambers,” Hordak explained to Glimmer, who was standing in the doorway to the sleeping quarters. “These hold the bodies in suspended animation to prevent decomposition, until the bodies can be returned to the Velvet Glove for the Rite of Outpouring.”

“Is that like a funeral?”

Hordak thought it best not to describe the ritual. “Yes,” he replied. This answer seemed to satisfy Glimmer.

“We will bury Catra on Etheria,” he continued. Hordak gently slid the stasis casket closed and tapped a keypad on its cover. The keypad beeped and glowed yellow-green.

The blood. The copper odor. Catra’s tiny body in the stasis casket. The mind-link with the other clone. Not knowing if he’d make it to Entrata and Imp. The day’s shocks all whirled around in Hordak’s head, colliding with each other. His adrenaline began to rise again. He breathed heavily and shoved the anxieties down.

He opened a cabinet. Inside the cabinet were clear canteens full of water. He removed one of the canteens and awkwardly handed it to Glimmer. “We … should clean up,” he said haltingly, pulling a sheet off of a cot and tearing it into rags.

Back on the bridge, Glimmer sat down and used the water and rags to blot some of the blood off of her clothing. The garments remained a crimson mess. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused. Hordak knelt down, wiping red stains off of the floor.

The young clone was no longer wailing, but softly weepy. He buried his face in his shackled hands and sighed. He had not moved from the spot where he sunk to the floor earlier.

Glimmer looked up and studied the clone. “Why are you crying?” she asked.

“I’m alone … alone in my head,” he moaned. “I can see Horde Prime! But he has forsaken me.”

Glimmer cocked an eyebrow. “Does someone want to explain?”

“I’m no longer bound to the hive mind,” Hordak finally said, “and I disrupted his connected to it as well when we scuffled. We telepathically linked. I’m not sure how.”

As the young clone muttered something about a “fire sphere” and “all the strings”, Glimmer and Hordak looked at each other, then back at him.

“What are you talking about? Strings and a sphere?” Glimmer asked the young clone.

“I see them. In my head,” sighed the clone.

“I believe … I can enlighten you,” Hordak said slowly. “I see them too, in my mind. The sphere you see is … me. Our brothers appear as blazing globes. The green threads bind them to Horde Prime. And your thread … my thread … were severed.”

The young clone lifted his head from his hands. Hordak froze. The young man’s eyes were no longer green, but scarlet, like his own.

After a moment, Hordak found his voice again. “I don’t understand any of this, why I can see them. Why _you_ can see them. Why your link to Prime was broken."

“But Horde Prime wouldn’t allow that!” the young clone protested. “I served him faithfully! He would never forsake a dutiful servant! He would never allow a servant to fall from his sight! Horde Prime is a just lord!”

“No, he isn’t!” Glimmer interjected. “He’s a dictator. He’s a monster. He doesn’t care about anyone.”

“He forsook me as well,” added Hordak. “I served him faithfully, and was still found unworthy.”

The young clone stared at them, slack-jawed.

Glimmer crept a few feet closer.

“My name is Glimmer. Tell me your name.”

The young clone blinked. “Clones do not have names.”

“But … Hordak here has a name,” she pointed out.

“That is blasphemy!” the clone gasped.

“It seems my entire existence is blasphemy, to Horde Prime,” Hordak said bitterly.

The young clone stared at the shackles on his wrists. “What … purpose do I have now? What am I … if I cannot serve him?”

Hordak knelt next to the clone. “Do you want a purpose? I will give you one. Serve and protect this woman,” he said, pointing to Glimmer. “She is precious to Horde Prime. If any harm befell Glimmer, Horde Prime would be outraged. Will you do this?”

The clone looked up at Hordak, then Glimmer. His eyes were now focused.

“It’s true,” Glimmer said. “I’m important to Prime. And I could use your help.”

The clone cocked his head to the side. “If he cherishes you, why did you flee from the Velvet Glove?”

“I, uh, hurt my heel! See? I needed to get medical treatment.”

The clone was silent for a moment, before realization flashed across his face. “The reconditioning chambers _are_ calibrated for members of my species, not yours. And our medical equipment is designed for clones. Of course!”

The young man exhaled, smiled, and his face relaxed. “Yes! I will serve and protect Brother Glimmer! Cherished One of Horde Prime!”

Hordak looked back at Glimmer, who nodded. He opened the compartment from which he pulled the shackles earlier and removed a small silver disk the side of a coin.

“If I remove your shackles, you will remain peaceful?”

“Yes!”

“If you behave treacherously, there will be consequences,” Hordak warned.

Hordak touched the disk to one of the shackles. With a click, the shackles fell loose, and the young clone’s hands were free. He rose to his feet.

“Wait here, Brother Glimmer! I will find supplies to sooth your injury!” the clone proclaimed. He disappeared into the sleeping quarters.

Once the young man was out of earshot, Glimmer sighed heavily.

“He’s a slave. They’re all slaves. Prime put shackles on their souls. And you were one of them. You wanted to conquer Etheria so that Prime would praise you.”

Hordak, who was putting the shackles and disk back in the compartment, stood still. “I suppose … that’s true,” he said grimly.

“But … what about Entrapta? What about Imp?”

Hordak spun around, frowning.

“You learned how to care about people other than Prime. Why did you put them in danger?” she continued. “Why did you summon Prime? He was going to destroy Etheria before he found out about the Heart. You had to know that was a possibility.”

“I …” Hordak struggled to find words. “I … wanted to be worthy in Prime’s eyes. I didn’t … think about the danger.”

“Didn’t you care about them?”

“Of course I cared! I … didn’t reflect on--”

“You also put my friends and family in danger. My people. I’ve already lost both parents to your war. Did you think about them?”

“It … it was for the glory of Prime.”

Hordak had no answers. Glimmer’s gaze bore down on him in the silence.

He bared his teeth and growled, throwing back his shoulders to appear larger—and then stopped.

No. That was an old posture. That was the posture of Lord Hordak the Tyrant, making himself imposing before enemies and subordinates. But that warlord was no more. There was no longer a throne to defend, an army to command, only a lost man. His snarl disappeared. He stared back at Glimmer, silent.

“I bring you first aid supplies for your heel, Brother Glimmer!” announced the young clone, returning to the bridge with an armful of sundries. “Antimicrobial polymeric hydrogel! These will protect your burn until you are treated.”

Both Glimmer and Hordak sighed. Hordak sat back down on the floor. The young clone gently removed Glimmer’s damaged boot, cleaned the burn with a small white cloth and a clear solution, and applied a thin, rubbery sheet of hydrogel over the injury.

“When did you last eat, Brother Glimmer?” the clone asked, gingerly placing the boot back on her foot.

“Before I was beamed aboard the Velvet Glove. I’m starving!”

“Horde Prime usually welcomes “guests” with lavish banquets. Did he not serve you a meal?” Hordak asked.

“He did. He had the clones prepare Urth delicacies for Catra and me. Ess-pick. Boiled briss-cat. Guaca-something. But,” Glimmer paused. “He told us they were foods from a planet that no longer existed. I just … couldn’t eat after that.”

“I brought us liquid rations,” the young clone said. Among the sundries he’d taken out of the sleeping quarters were three sealed vials, each filled with about two ounces of forest green liquid. He handed Glimmer and Hordak a vial each.

As Hordak unscrewed his vial, Glimmer held the vial in her open hand.

“Catra didn’t eat a bite either, after that.”

Hordak and the young clone each threw back their vials with one gulp. Glimmer slowly unscrewed her vial.

“I couldn’t understand her,” Glimmer went on. “She tried to destroy Etheria once, with the portal. She’s the reason my mom is trapped between worlds. But then she intervened with Prime. She died protecting me today.”

“Catra was difficult for me to understand as well,” Hordak admitted. “Helpful one moment, cruel the next. She cost me Entrapta. But now, her actions may let me reunite with Entrapta and Imp. I’m still unsure what to make of it.”

Glimmer was tilting her vial back and worth, watching the viscous liquid slowly slide against the glass. She lifted the vial to her nose, sniffed, and instantly wrinkled her nose.

“Uhhhh! I’m sorry. I can’t drink this.”

“The rations are not pleasing to you, Brother Glimmer?” the young clone asked.

“No. It’s … I … I can’t.” She resealed her vial and handed it back to the clone.

Hordak stood up. “You need treatment for your burn, and suitable food. I can take you to a nearby planet for both. We should wait several days before returning to Etheria anyway. Prime will likely be searching for us.”

“Another planet? What kind of planet?”

“Planet Kadroh. It’s part of this planetary system, one of many in Prime’s empire. There’s an Eternian diaspora in Kopar-nik. You could easily pass for one of them. A large Battani diaspora resides there as well. My brother and I can pass ourselves off as residents.”

Glimmer squinted. “Eternians? Battani?”

“One is an anthro species, like your own. The other is our species.”

“It’s as good a plan as any. Let’s go.”

Hordak stepped onto the dais and reached for the cable. “Clone soldiers are stationed there as well. We’ll need to be inconspicuous. Replacing those bloodied clothes will be essential.”

As he plugged the cable into his neck port, Hordak realized that the bright red Horde symbol on his exoskeleton was hardly inconspicuous. He looked down at the bat-shaped decal on his chest. Horde Prime despised him, and he had committed treason by helping Glimmer escape. After this, he would never again have a place in the Galactic Horde. The thought made his adrenaline rush and his blood run cold. And yet, he was still wearing Prime’s symbol.

He picked at the edges of the decal with his talons. Slowly, he peeled off strips of the bat-symbol. After tossing the strips aside, he planted his hands on the metal spheres.

“Initiate portal jump!”


	4. Cityscape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hordak, Glimmer, and the young clone arrive on planet Kadroh. In the city of Kopar-nik, Glimmer sees daily life in the Galactic Horde empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How can people from different interstellar civilizations all speak the same language? They're speaking Galactic Common, the modern name for the Eternian language. The ancient Eternian empire, of which the First Ones were a splinter, imposed the Eternian language on all the planets they conquered. Eventually, Eternian became the lingua franca of the galaxy, even among planets that were not part of the empire, such as Battaniya (the home planet of the Battani). Horde Prime, who heralded from Battaniya, would have spoken Eternian as an administrative language. Long after the fall of the Eternian empire, the Galactic Horde would impose Eternian on conquered worlds as well.
> 
> When the First Ones colonized Etheria, they brought the Eternian language with them. However, the Etherians developed their own writing system in the centuries following the Despondos incident, which is why most Etherians cannot read First Ones (Eternian) script.

A diamond-shaped space station and multiple Galactic Horde ships floated above planet Kadroh, looking down on its blue, black, and tan surface. The station hailed the solitary ship.

"Our sensors cannot pick up your designation signal. Identify yourself," said a clone over the audio frequency.

"Galactic Horde Vessel 08022019," replied Hordak. "Our flock passed through an ion storm in the Galil Belt. Visual display is offline. Our tracker and sensors sustained damage. Reporting to the Kopar-nik base for repairs."

"Acknowledged."

Hordak, Glimmer, and the young clone emerged from the ship into a grassy clearing. Underneath their feet were charcoal gray sedges and sandy soil, and in the distance were stout trees with black leaves. A large orange dwarf star hung overhead in a pale blue sky. The air was cool and smelled of salt, not unlike Salineas back on Etheria.

Glimmer’s eyes darted all over the landscape, so unlike Etheria. The young clone gaped at the vegetation, the pale sky, the saline breeze that ruffled his hair.

"First time off the Velvet Glove?" Glimmer asked him with a smirk.

"Yes. Everything is so different! So intense!"

"I want to see your face when you take in Etheria for the first time."

Hordak said nothing, remembering a moment years ago when he too gazed up at an alien sky, breathless.

_After days of weeping, he emerged from his broken ship, numb. Before him was a desert, cold and dry, with a settlement in the distance. The landscape was flanked on either side by jagged stone formations that seemed ready to clamp on him like animal jaws._

_The night sky held pastel moons but no stars. The sight of the deep blue void sent a chill down his back. The nearby settlement did not emit enough light to obscure the stars with light pollution. Where were the stars? Panic rose in him._

_He heard movement. About a hundred feet away, a dozen people were walking toward him. The silhouettes had humanoid outlines, but their forearms were oversized, curved, and without hands. Segmented tails curled out of their lower backs._

“We are a few minutes’ walk outside of Kopar-nik,” Hordak said. “I recommend we find some clothing to make ourselves less conspicuous.”

The three walked slowly, on account of Glimmer’s limp, through grasses and trees. Glimmer found a fallen branch, peeled off the black leaves, and used it as a walking stick. The trio followed a steel track for a high-speed quantum train which led to a seaside city in the distance. Occasionally, the group would stop to allow Glimmer to take weight off her injured foot for a moment. The young clone offered to carry her, but she politely declined.

"Kadroh is what the Galactic Horde calls a mosaic planet", Hordak explained as she rested on a fallen tree. "Sometimes, to prevent revolts, Horde Prime exiles a portion of a planet's population to different worlds in his empire. Kadroh was one such destination. Eternians, Battani, and Andreenid diasporas are here, among others."

“If Etheria can’t resist Prime, he could do that to my people,” Glimmer realized.

“Yes. He could.”

Soon, small homes covered with white tiles appeared amidst the vegetation. Behind one home was a clothesline on which several salt-white garments were drying. The three quietly plucked several items from the clothesline and returned to a wooded area to dress themselves.

Glimmer discarded her old bloodied clothes and put on a lightweight tunic and baggy trousers that flared at the ends. The young clone put on a long, lightweight robe over his Galactic Horde uniform. Hordak disguised himself with a lightweight chasuble over his exoskeleton. In the cool temperatures, the clothes would not look out of place.

Hordak had also stolen two headscarves from the clothesline. His unmistakable clone features – the long face, the prominent chin, the mohawk hair style – would draw unwanted attention. He covered his head and lower face with one of the headscarves and handed the other headscarf to the young clone.

“Brother, why are we hiding our faces?”

“This mission requires secrecy,” Hordak answered. “Not even the other clones must know of our presence here.”

Black vegetation gave way to ivory white streets and looming buildings. The trio had arrived at Kopar-nik, a metropolis overlooking the Kopar ocean. A needle-like green and white spire jutted out from the city center. Smooth, pale buildings dominated the cityscape, evoking the style of the Velvet Glove in their sterility. Towering over a grassy park was a green jade statue of Horde Prime, smiling serenely, hand extended as if offering the viewer an invisible gift. 

“This place is _huge_ ,” Glimmer whispered to the young clone. “Etheria doesn’t have any cities this big.”

Merchants sold water and sundries from wheeled carts. Residents passed them as they walked the city streets. Anthros with beige or brown skin. Anthros with purple skin, pointed ears, and black talons. Lanky humanoids covered with brown and yellow stripes, with segmented eyes, antennae, and delicate wings. People who resembled the Galactic Horde clones, but old and young, slim and stocky, with crimson eyes and skin tones everywhere from light blue to indigo. Most of the residents were wearing flowing, salt-white clothing. Some wore darker, heavier clothes befitting manual laborers. All spoke in a language comprehensible to the trio: Galactic Common.

Glimmer walked up to a cart selling rust-colored bars that smelled like grains.

“Hi. I need some food,” she announced to the hulking woman behind the cart, wearing an apron. The merchant was covered in red fur and had a hunched back and fangs.

“Two avidecos. Hot or cold?”

Glimmer reached into the pocket of her tunic and pulled out an Etherian gold dinar. “Do you take these?”

The hulking woman squinted at the coin, then shook her head. “Sweetie, we don’t take antique coins. Just imperial avidecos.”

“I don’t have those. I really need something to eat. Can you make an exception?”

“Okay, look. There’s a destitution refuge three blocks that way,” the woman said, pointing a meaty hand west. “They’ll give you a meal. It’s clinic day too, so they have people doing check-ups and teeth.”

Glimmer glanced back at Hordak and the young clone and gestured west. Once they were no longer in earshot of the food cart, Glimmer learned toward Hordak.

“What’s a destitution refuge?” she whispered.

“An altruistic institution. It provides rations and shelter to those on the margins of society.”

“Why would Kopar-nik need that?”

“Because the city’s economy is structured around the needs of the empire. Prime is concerned about order and supply lines, not his subjects’ standard of living.”

Glimmer leaned against a retaining wall for a white stone courtyard, lifting her foot off the ground for a moment. While she paused, Hordak closed his eyes and gazed into the hive mind. The emerald cloud was far away now, a green blur in the distance. All around him, hundreds of blazing spheres hovered in place or floated about, a few with gossamer threads connecting them to Horde Prime, but most without threads. When he opened his eyes, he saw the owners of some of the free-floating spheres: ordinary Battani, going about their business on the city streets.

"Brother!" whispered the young clone excitedly. "I see them! In my head! Those Battani!"

"I do too. What are they doing in the hive mind?"

Many years in the past, before Horde Prime sent him to die on the battlefield, Hordak had been stationed on Kadroh for several weeks. The clones guarded and maintained Galactic Horde installations, ensured that goods flowed to imperial supply lines, and policed the populace for any disloyalty to Horde Prime.

Before his flock arrived on Kadroh, they had been instructed never to touch the ordinary Battani there, as they were “unclean” and carried pathogens that could sicken clones. Most clones looked upon the ordinary Battani with contempt, as they were but flawed mockeries of Horde Prime's perfect form. Some clones felt pity for them, as they were not part of the hive mind and would never know the holiness of Horde Prime's constant presence. But now, Hordak and the young clone could clearly see them in the hive mind.

He closed his eyes again. Among the different free-floating spheres were two spheres bound to gossamer threads. The two clone-spheres were about fifty feet away, moving back and forth quickly.

“Trouble lies ahead,” he told Glimmer and the young clone. “Two—”

Before he could finish, the doors to a home up ahead flew open. Two Galactic Horde clones stormed out, each wearing the tabard uniform of a mature soldier. Each man was equipped with a small arm canon mounted on his right arm. One was clutching a long, teardrop-shaped dulcimer carved from black wood. The other soldier clutched a small painting of rose and purple geometric patterns. The two clones threw the objects on the ground, where they broke into pieces.

“Stay back,” Hordak instructed Glimmer and the young clone. 

A stout Battani woman with shoulder-length mauve hair appeared in the doorway. She was baring her teeth, and her face was flushed.

“Those aren’t yours!” she shouted at the clones. “Those—”

One of the clones raised his arm cannon and pointed it at the woman. “Stay in your house! Do not come any closer.” The woman froze in the doorway.

“Cultural retentiveness is an affront to Horde Prime. You know that!” barked the second clone. “You need not look to old, heathen artifacts for joy. Horde Prime provides all joy.”

A small crowd had formed near the trio to see the commotion. Hordak noticed an insectoid man in the crowd with large eyes, full lips, and four blue legs who was staring at Glimmer. He growled at the man, who cowered and walked away.

Up ahead, the second clone fired his arm cannon at the broken dulcimer and painting lying in the street. A moment later, all that remained of the objects were smoke and ash.

The two clones left, and the murmuring crowd dispersed. As they walked past the smoldering stain on the street, Glimmer leaned toward Hordak.

“What just happened!? It’s not like she had weapons. Those things were harmless!”

“Prime seeks to erase the cultural distinctiveness of all the societies he controls. He preaches that all subjects belong to one culture, that of his empire. But some people still cling to their old ways, in secret.”

The trio arrived at the destitution refuge, a wide, white building with open doors. The building resembled an old warehouse, with high ceilings and broad green windows that bathed the interior in green light. When the three stepped inside, they found nearly a hundred people packed into the mess hall, standing in lines for meals or seated at curvy, minimalist tables. Their white clothes looked older and coarser than those the trio had stolen from the clothesline earlier.

Glimmer and Hordak sat at one of the tables. A few minutes later, the young clone joined them, carrying three mugs of water and a trapezoid-shaped plate on which a gray square sat.

“Brother Glimmer! I brought you nourishment!” he announced.

Glimmer inspected the food. “It’s a ration bar,” she realized. “Adora said she lived on these when she grew up in the Horde.” Glimmer held the bar with both hands, sniffed it, and sank her teeth into it.

“Mmph. When you haven’t eaten, even these things taste amazing,” she said with her mouth half full. “There’s other kinds of food in the city, right?”

“Unlikely. Cuisine is another expression of cultural distinctiveness,” Hordak pointed out. “Prime insists that his subjects eat ration bars for that reason.”

As Glimmer wolfed down her food and the young clone sipped water, Hordak gaze floated over the room. Most of the people were absorbed in conversations, food, and drink, but a few caught his attention. A blonde anthro woman who was staring at Glimmer. An elderly Andreenid woman who was staring at _him_. Something was off.

“We’ve got one more slot for medical check-ups!” called out a slim, bald woman with purple skin in the back of the room.

“Brother Glimmer, you should get your burn treated,” the young clone gingerly suggested.

“Right,” she replied, placing the last bite of food in her mouth and standing up.

The bald woman led Glimmer, Hordak, and the young clone to another wing of the building, this one with smaller, quieter rooms where doctors and dentists tended to visitors.

“You’re Physician Rigel’s last patient of the day. Have a seat inside,” said the woman, gesturing into a spartan white room.

Glimmer entered and sat down on a curvy, minimalist chair, while Hordak and the young clone stood just outside the open doorway. Inside was Rigel, a middle-aged Battani man wearing a long-sleeved white tunic and white trousers. Rigel’s build was stocky, and his skin was a deep, saturated indigo. His sparse blue hair had been cut into short waves and resembled a fin on top of his head. Unlike the clones, who had long, angular faces, this man had a square face.

Rigel stood next to a curvy table, on which different silver medical devices and glass vessels filled with different liquids. He held a data pad, tapping the screen, not looking up.

“Welcome. Name?” he asked, eyes still on the screen. This voice was gravelly.

Glimmer opened her mouth to speak, but Hordak frowned and gave her a look of warning. Glimmer understood.

“Um, Shadow Weaver,” Glimmer answered.

“Shadow. Weaver,” the doctor repeated, tapping the pseudonym into his device. “All right, Ms. Weaver. We’ll take your height and—”

The doctor went silent. He was now looking up from his data pad at Glimmer. He shot glances at Hordak and Wrong Hordak.

“You two. Come in and close the door,” he said furtively. They obeyed. Once the door was closed, he turned his gaze to Glimmer again, brow ridges furrowed.

“And what brings you here, exactly?”

“I have a burn on my foot,” she answered slowly. “Is everything all right?”

“Let’s look at that burn.”

Rigel placed a paper mat under Glimmer’s feet. He then knelt in front of her chair, removed her damaged boot and the hydrogel dressing, and inspected the burn. “This wasn’t from fire or electrical equipment. It’s perfectly oval. The edges are regular.”

The trio said nothing. Rigel took a hand-held tissue regenerator off the table. The device was silver, L-shaped, and had a small screen on the back of the handle.

“Let’s calibrate this for your tissue. Species?”

“Eternian.”

Rigel looked up at Glimmer and arched one of his brow ridges. “Eternian,” he repeated gruffly. 

His attention returned to the tissue regenerator. “Anthro, non-specified,” he said as he tapped the tiny screen. A moment later, Rigel was gently holding Glimmer’s foot with one hand, and holding the device an inch from Glimmer’s burn in his other hand. The device cast a soft blue light onto the injury. Over the course of several minutes, dead, charred tissue fell off Glimmer’s foot, and layers of healthy tissue spontaneously appeared, until her skin was healthy again.

“Wow. That was quick. Thank you,” Glimmer said as she put her boot back on. Rigel placed the device back on the table.

“Do you want to tell me what this is all about?” Rigel asked grimly, picking up the paper mat flecked with burned skin flakes. “Your name isn’t Shadow Weaver, you aren’t Eternian, and these men you brought with you are not ordinary men.”

Glimmer turned pale. “How … did you … know that?”

Rigel grimly stared at her for a moment, before letting out a short snort-laugh. “You’re safe here, Queen Glimmer! You have nothing to fear from me.”

Hordak loudly exhaled, relieved. Glimmer’s shoulders relaxed. The young clone watched everyone’s reactions, puzzled.

“You’ve become famous, your majesty”, chuckled the raspy-voiced doctor. He waved his hand over a gray square on the table. The disk projected a small holographic screen into the air, just above the table. On the holographic screen was an image of Glimmer, tense and unhappy, seated at the banquet table of the Velvet Glove. The image slowly changed to an image of Catra seated at the banquet table, a plate of untouched aspic in front of her. Catra’s photo faded, and was replaced by two pictures side by side. One was of Hordak, kneeling in the Velvet Glove’s throne room shortly after he was beamed aboard, disheveled and fearful. The other of a generic clone on a white background, blankly staring ahead. At the bottom of the holographic screen, a chyron of First Ones script scrolled from right to left.

“—treason against the Galactic Horde Empire. Queen Glimmer is considered a high-value imperial asset, and the Throne has promised a reward to those who assist in her retrieval. Anyone with information about the escapees—” droned a serene clone’s voice.

Rigel waved his hand again over the square, and the holographic screen and audio vanished. Hordak now understood why random strangers were staring at Glimmer, and at him.

“The current events broadcast came out with that about fifteen minutes ago,” Rigel explained. “Lucky for you, most of the city hates Horde Prime. Including me. Where is your cat friend?”

“She … didn’t make it,” Glimmer answered softly.

“I’m sorry,” Rigel replied. "She was brave, going against Prime."

The doctor turned to Hordak and the young clone. “And what about you two strapping men? I thought clones were too brainwashed to disobey Prime.”

Hordak removed his headscarf, and nodded at the young clone to do the same. Their mohawk hairstyle, long faces, and angular cheekbones were now on full display.

“Clones with red eyes? A clone who dyes his hair blue? Now I’ve seen everything,” Rigel said, studying their faces.

“I am Hordak. My brother and I are no longer part of Prime’s hive mind. Glimmer and I are trying to return to Etheria.”

Rigel digested Hordak’s words, then flashed a fanged smile. “Don’t you think you could use some help?”


	5. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rigel tells Hordak and the young clone about their heritage and the true origins of Horde Prime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Battani share an evolutionary ancestry with microbats, and this is reflected in the Battani language. Their native tongue includes both "conventional" sounds that are within the human range of hearing and supersonic sounds outside of the human range of hearing. The Battani larynx is equipped to make both types of sounds. 
> 
> Much like Hebrew and Arabic, Battani uses clusters of “root” consonants to form related works. The root HRD is present in words for family members:
> 
> Hord (Horde) – Brethren
> 
> Horda - Brother
> 
> Hordani - Sister
> 
> Hurdat - Household
> 
> Oharada -- Family loyalty

In the dream, Hordak stood on a dry, rocky cliff overlooking Dryl, where wind ruffled his hair. On his left shoulder, he felt the gentle weight of a child. Imp was perching there, silently taking in the landscape. A fuchsia lock of hair rested on his right shoulder. Entrapta was standing before him, eyes sparkling, arms wide, talking excitedly about technology.

Over Entrapta’s shoulder, Hordak saw a thunderstorm brewing in the sky. An emerald green storm cloud was billowing on the horizon. Thunder split the air.

Hordak abruptly woke up. He was sleeping on the floor of Rigel’s home, his head resting on a cushion. In the darkness, he saw Rigel’s outline, sleeping on the floor on the other side of the sitting room. Nearby was the young clone’s silhouette, lying with his back to Hordak. The young clone sniffled softly, and Hordak could smell tears.

A hollow ache filled Hordak’s chest. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Dawn arrived. Gold and orange light poured through the windows of Rigel’s home, an apartment just a few minutes’ walk from the destitution refuge. Rigel was already awake, plucking fruit off of two shrubby black plants sitting under the wide kitchen window.

Rigel belonged to an underground network of resisters who helped those fleeing from Galactic Horde persecution. The evening before, the doctor had quietly hidden the trio in his home. After washing up, his guests wanted nothing more than to sleep. Glimmer was given the bed in the bedroom, while Rigel, Hordak, and the young clone slept on the floor in the sitting room.

Hordak sat up. The young clone was already on his feet, stretching his arms. Around them on the hard floor were the white fabric mats and cushions on which guests would sit. A white island divided the sitting room from the kitchen, and it was on this island that Rigel was setting out plate piled high with small orange fruits.

“It’s a special occasion. I have guests just as the morelas are ripening. Come have breakfast. Leave some for Glimmer when she wakes up.”

Hordak rose to his feet. The young clone was already standing at the island, holding one of the orange fruits in his fingertips. He eyed the morela with a puzzled expression.

"A friend who works on the farms smuggled me the seeds for these,” Rigel said, finishing the last bite of the fruit in his hand. “They grow these to add to the purple ration bars. Oh, but those bars are nothing compared to the fresh fruit."

The young clone took a bite out of the fruit, chewed, and paused. His eyes suddenly widened and sparkled. He took another enthusiastic bite out of the morela.

Hordak stood at the island and plucked a fruit from the plate. The skin of the fruit was smooth, and its flesh was tender. Layers of tart, sweet, and floral flavors bloomed from the first bite he took. Before he knew it, he’d finished the first fruit and was reaching for another.

“These were … well-cultivated,” Hordak admitted. The young clone was already sinking his fangs into a second morela.

“What’s more Battani than a big plate of fruit?” asked Rigel, beaming at the young clone. “Ah, look at him go. I’ll bet you never had fruit like this on the Velvet Glove.”

The young clone swallowed a bite. “I never had fruit at all. Horde Prime decreed that his clones subsist on liquid rations. May I have another?”

“Take another. You mean to tell me he never lets you have real food? Like this?” Rigel asked, gesturing at the plate.

“No. It was Horde Prime’s will that we keep our bodies pure with his rations, and not pollute ourselves with unclean food. Low food was meant for beings outside of the Galactic Horde.”

Hordak thought back to his first days on Etheria. When his liquid rations ran out, he had no choice but to subsist on the natives’ food. Every bite felt blasphemous.

“He told you that?” Rigel sneered. “Narcissist. He just enjoyed the control.”

The young clone’s ears flattened. “But Horde Prime is all-wise. He is a living god whose perfect—”

Rigel was shaking his head and waving his hands. “No. No. God? No. He really told you that?”

The doctor leaned forward onto the island. “Don’t you even know what he is? Where he came from?”

The young clone could only look back at Rigel with lowered ears. “He is … eternal.”

“He really has kept you in the dark. All right. Sit down,” Rigel instructed, pointing to the white mats and cushions on the sitting room floor. He sat cross-legged on a cushion atop one of the mats, and Hordak and the young man did likewise.

“Young man, he lied to you. He’s not a god. He’s a monster, using a man as a steed,” Rigel said grimly. The young clone’s ears were still flattened, and his posture was rigid.

"The Battani still remember, even if Prime wants the galaxy to forget. A lot of our history has been lost, but some of it has been preserved through underground texts. We also pass it down, secretly, though the jeweled-mind-link," Rigel explained.

Hordak had never heard of this jeweled-mind-link, but was too curious about Prime's origins to ask just yet.

"Centuries ago, our home planet, Battaniya, was a galactic superpower. An oasis of civilization after the Eternian Empire collapsed. The empire had split into warring factions -- the Ramstone Brotherhood, the First Ones, the Gar -- but Battaniya held them off and remained independent."

"I've heard of these First Ones," Hordak said. "On Etheria. They left behind advanced technology from a bygone age."

"Etheria was probably one of their outposts. They used early portal technology to travel all over the galaxy," Rigel replied.

The doctor sat straighter. "Battaniya was a spacefaring civilization as well. Back in the Warring Factions Era, a Battani scientist named Annilis was researching space travel technology. Now this Annilis believed that the hyperspace dimension could allow for a new means of space travel. Exciting and dangerous work."

“Oh, we clones know of hyperspace,” the young clone chimed in. “Horde Prime expressly forbids us from entering portal coordinates to the hyperspace dimension.”

“The dangers are too great,” Hordak added. “The laws of physics become unstable there.” Hordak thought back to the malfunctioning portal on Etheria, the flash of white and purple light, and the dreamlike world on the other side. “I had an encounter with the realm once, and I never wish to repeat it.”

"Ah, so you know of that place," Rigel said. "The clones do well to avoid it. During his research, Annilis opened a portal to hyperspace, and a ... _being_ came through. It took over his body, spoke through his lips. And you, young man, worship that creature as your lord."

Hordak and the young clone stared at Rigel, wide-eyed.

“Our race has psychic propensities,” Rigel continued. “That may have made him vulnerable to this creature. Or maybe it made him a desirable host. The being called itself the Prime. Over months, Prime mutated Annilis’s body. His sclera turned green, and his pupils darkened. Two extra eyes formed on his face. His jaw became deformed. The jeweled-mind-link allowed Prime to brainwash powerful Battani for his cause. Within a generation, he was the leader of a new empire.”

Rigel learned forward and rested his hands on his knees. "Prime wanted something more for his grand ambitions. He cloned new bodies to wear when Annilis’ body grew too old. He cloned an army out of Annilis' DNA. He forged a psychic link with his new slaves, apart from the other Battani. A hive mind, with him in the center. Prime surrounded himself with the clones, and the Battani race became just another conquered people."

“You keep bringing up this ‘jeweled-mind-link’. I don’t know what that is,” Hordak interjected.

“The psychic bond between all Battani!” Rigel said with a smile, beaming. “Our birthright! Battani can telepathically link with a touch to the head. It’s how we’ve passed down our history all these centuries.”

It was all beginning to make sense. Hordak’s ears flattened, and he looked at the young clone. The young man was gazing back at him, a look of realization on his face.

“When we were struggling, and you placed your hand on my head…” the young man whispered.

“We linked,” Hordak replied.

Hordak turned back to Rigel. "The hive mind … he used our innate propensities to fashion it. But we clones cannot link with each other. Or not until now, with the two of us. Horde Prime must have disrupted the clone's psychic bonds with each other, somehow.”

Rigel nodded solemnly. “He stole their birthright. _Your_ birthright. Do you understand now, how much he has stolen from you?"

Silence hung over the room.

“But you two broke away from the hive mind,” Rigel finally said. “I want to know more about this.”

Hordak swallowed. “When I fell through a spacetime anomaly into Despondos years ago, my link to the hive mind was severed. Even when I returned to Horde Prime’s side, he could not see my thoughts. But now … I see the other clones in the vastness now, when I close my eyes. I see gossamer threads binding them to Prime. I see _him_ , but I cannot hear him or feel his presence.”

Hordak turned to look at the young clone again. “When I was fleeing from the Velvet Glove, he and I grappled. I touched his head during the struggle, and our minds linked. I saw the thread binding him to Prime. I pushed against it. The thread disintegrated.”

The young clone cast his gaze to the floor. “And then, I could no longer sense Horde Prime. I was alone in my head. And now, I see the clones in my head. And the other Battani. All flaming spheres,” added the young clone.

“Prime would have condemned you to death, once he learned of what happened,” Hordak reminded him. “And so … I brought you with me.”

"Now this is fascinating," Rigel said softly. "Normal Battani can't see the clones in our minds. But I can see your spheres there. You can see your brothers, and us too. And you freed one of your brothers from the hive mind! Do you know what this means? Other clones can be freed too.”

Rigel was silent for a moment, before rising from his cushion and sitting in front of the young clone. “Young man, your link with Hordak was frightening. It shouldn’t be that way. I can show you how Battani should link with each other. May I?”

The young clone blinked and sat up straighter.

“I would put my hand on your head, and you’d put your hand on mine. It will not hurt. If you want to stop, we stop. Do you want to try?”

The young man said nothing for a few moments, his gaze still averted. Finally, he looked at Rigel. “Yes!”

Slowly, gingerly, Rigel placed his right hand on the side of the young clone’s head. Awkwardly, the young clone did likewise, and the two men closed their eyes. For several minutes, Rigel and the young clone held this pose, expressions focused but calm, as Hordak looked on.

It was so unlike the way Horde Prime linked with him in the Velvet Glove’s throne room, Hordak observed. Serene. Willing. No wincing, no facial groping, no shouting.

Rigel and the young clone eventually removed their hands from each other’s heads and opened their eyes. Rigel chuckled warmly and patted the young man on the arm. The young clone was smiling softly, face relaxed, awe-struck tears welling up in his eyes.

“There’s so much more of life, isn’t there?” Rigel asked. “Your journey is just getting started.”

“I … I had no idea,” said the young man, smiling gently, then broadly. A tear raced down his cheek. He sighed happily.

“I had no idea either,” Rigel said gently, “what kind of lives you lived under Prime. We don’t get to link with clones. They avoid us. They shoot or recoil from Battani who get too close.”

“I heard words. Not Galactic Common.” the young man asked.

"Our native tongue. We keep the Battani language alive, in secret. _Ju vali va oharada o ji horda tam, ji horda farak hord laniakea."_ ("You have much familial loyalty to your brother here, your brother from the Galactic Brethren.”)

Some of the sounds Rigel uttered were high-pitched, while others rumbled out of his throat at a low pitch. The Battani words seemed achingly familiar to Hordak, and a memory stirred.

During his first nights on Etheria, Hordak had wept himself to sleep on board his crashed ship. In the hazy space between wakefulness and slumber, strange words flashed across his mind, and he instinctively knew their meaning. _Horda_ (brother). _Ṛdak_ (worthy). _Worthy brother._ He vowed that he would prove himself a worthy brother to Horde Prime and return to his side, someday, against all odds. When the Etherians insisted on calling him by a name, he formed a portmanteau out of the two words: Hordak.

“Long ago, I remembered some of these words,” Hordak admitted. “But I am unsure how. No one had ever spoken Battani in my presence before.”

“A …a brother did as well.” the young clone added. “He had been decanted and given the Sacrament of Clarity on the same day as I had. He uttered words like this in the presence of Horde Prime. Prime was enraged and ordered him to be purified in the baptismal pool. It was … Battani. I know that now.”

"So the clones have ancestral memories, like we do," Rigel realized. "Prime couldn't take that away, could he? The jeweled-mind-link connects the living to each other, and sometimes, it connects the living to the ancestors. Sometimes, in dreams, or emotional moments, we remember fragments of our ancestors’ memories. Words, sensations. Or an image."

Hordak remembered a dream that had shaken him years before. In a laboratory, white and purple light spilled out of a hyperspace portal as it tore a hole in the fabric of reality. He glanced down at a data pad in his hand, and in his reflection on the screen, a face like Horde Prime’s gazed back at him. However, this Horde Prime had two red eyes instead of four green eyes, and long white hair instead of cables. Upon waking, Hordak assumed the dream was about Horde Prime opening a portal to Despondos to retrieve him. Now, he wondered if the dream was a vision of Annilis, his true ancestor.

“Hordak,” Rigel said softly. “Do you want to link as well?”

Hordak hesitated. Did he want his thoughts laid bare? Did he trust this man with his memories? Would he miss something fascinating if he declined?

“Very well,” Hordak finally answered.

Rigel sat in front of him and slowly placed his right hand on the side of Hordak’s head. Hordak extended his right hand and did likewise. A presence, radiant like glowing embers, glided over his mind. Images, sounds, and sensations poured into the space between them. The smell of the Kopar Ocean. A grandmother teaching him old Battani songs in secret as a child. An elderly Eternian man at the destitution refuge with sunken cheeks and tired eyes. A morela seedling peeking out of soil in an earthenware pot. Running down an alley as a young man with four other resistance cell friends, clones shouting far behind them in the night, fear, exhilaration, camaraderie. A secret feast at a cousin’s home, the air thick with aromas of black market fruits.

It was so unlike Horde Prime’s mind probes, which wrenched out memories like a harsh hand yanking roots out of the earth. Instead of blinding light, a fiery glow. Instead of violation, communion.

Hordak’s mind breathed out its memories as well. Imp flying through the rafters of the sanctum, repeating gossip. Fear one night at the Kopar-nik base when he first noticed white blotches on his blue arms. Entrapta, smiling, bright-eyed, lit from behind by sparks. The halls of the Velvet Glove, cold and white and sterile. Pain in his forearms, and sunken flesh between his radius and ulna bones. Horde Prime lifting him by his throat, roaring that he was a “cloning failure” and “worthless”. Tears, emptiness, aching. Imp’s wicked smile. Entrapta’s silken hair touching his shoulder.

Other memories flooded the space between them. Adrenaline coursing through him as his laser bore holes into the Sea Gate. The odor of smoke as he watched Salineas burn. Soldiers kneeling before a green-lit throne. A feline force captain in restraints, scowling, refusing to meet his gaze.

Short waves of emotion rippled through the link. Alarm. Disgust. Pity? Rigel removed his hand from Hordak’s face, and Hordak found himself alone in his head again. When he opened his eyes, Rigel was frowning, and his red eyes were narrowed.

“Well. It seems I welcomed a warlord into my home,” the doctor rasped. “You failed to tell me this.”

Hordak bore Rigel’s gaze. “I feared that you would not have taken us in if you knew.” The words came out quieter than he had intended.

Rigel stared at Hordak for a long time, studying Hordak’s face, frowning. The young clone glanced back and forth between them, unsure of how to react.

"What you did was monstrous," Rigel finally said, "That's not up for dispute. But I think I understand why you did it.”

Rigel sat back down on his cushion and mat. "“Maybe if I were a slave of Horde Prime, I would have ended up a warlord too.” 

The doctor sighed. “When I looked into your minds, I saw the loneliness. The dependency. Prime made you both believe that you were nothing without him. You would have done anything to win back his love.”

Hordak nodded. “I would have. I thought that conquest would prove my worth to him.”

"But you’re not going back to that life, are you? You know the futility of it now, don't you?" Rigel continued.

“Yes,” Hordak replied. 

“No more people will be sacrificed on that sad altar,” Rigel declared, with finality. In the silence that followed, Hordak was reminded again of the wasted years, the pointless warring. Over the years, princesses and rebels had hurled words of condemnation at him, but he was unmoved. Why did Rigel’s ire sting?

A door opened. Glimmer emerged from the bedroom, yawning.

“Oh good! You’re awake,” Rigel said, trying his best to sound cheerful. “Help yourself to the morelas on the island.”

Glimmer plucked two fruits from the platter and sat down on the remaining cushion on the floor. “These remind me of apricots. They smell different, though.” She bit into one of the fruits.

Rigel breathed deeply and turned to the young clone. “You know, I can’t keep calling you young man. You need a name.”

“You do,” Glimmer agreed, talking with a mouthful of fruit. “You should pick out a name. Prime doesn’t control you now.”

The young clone thought for a moment. “I want to be called … Kadroh. Planet Kadroh is where I learned the truth!”

Outside, a heel slammed against the door of the apartment. The door flew open, its lock dangling uselessly off the door frame. Three clone soldiers now stood at the threshold, pointing their arm canons inside.


	6. Imperfection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hordak and Kadroh fight with the clones seeking to capture Glimmer. Rigel calls upon allies. Hordak, Glimmer, and Kadroh make unexpected discoveries upon returning to Etheria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: mild violence. Kadroh just learned that Battani can psychically link with a head-to-head touch, not just a hand-to-head touch.

The three clone soldiers stormed into the apartment, arm canons pointed out. Hordak and Kadroh sprang from their cushions and hurled themself at two of the clones. The third clone barked ordered at Glimmer and Rigel, shouting at them to rise to their feet. 

Kadroh swung outward, knocking his opponents arm to the side. The clone’s arm canon accidentally fired into the floor, leaving a blackened, smoking dent in the white marble. The two grappled until Kadroh eventually restrained the clone with a bear hug.

“We do not wish to fight you, brothers!” Kadroh insisted. “You’ve all been deceived!”

Hordak swung at the second clone’s arm canon, pointed at his torso. The punch cracked the arm canon, and the green glow inside its barrel faded. Just as the punch landed, Hordak threw an elbow at the clone’s chin. The clone teetered backwards for a moment, then bared his teeth and swung the cracked arm canon at Hordak’s head. Hordak blocked the blow with his forearm and delivered a jab to the clone’s ribs.

As he fought with the clone, Hordak strove to reign in the power behind his blows. The cybernetic exoskeleton enhanced his strength enough to damage his opponent’s arm canon, but too much force behind his punches could kill the clone.

The clone let the cracked arm canon fall from his arm onto the floor. With both arms free, he wrestled with Hordak, growling, snarling.

As they struggled, Hordak had a terrifying realization. The three clones would soon communicate Glimmer’s whereabouts to Horde Prime. If Prime’s attention were to be diverted from Etheria to Planet Kadroh, they could even do it through the hive mind. _They could not be allowed to alert Horde Prime._

Entangled with the snarling clone, Hordak understood what he had to do. He yanked his right hand free and pressed it to his opponent’s head. A fiery consciousness poured into his mind, and a green gossamer thread dangled between them. Images flickered before him: the insectoid man with four legs he'd seen on the street, describing Glimmer. A clone handing the man a pouch of avidecos. _Horde Prime will praise us for returning her._ The clinking sound of the coins. _She turned our brothers against Horde Prime? How?_

The clone grunted. Emotions vibrated within their mental link. Confusion. Fear. _He sees my thoughts like Prime?_ In the psychic space between them, Hordak called out to the other clone. _Horde Prime lied to us,_ he told the clone.

Hordak focused on the pulsing gossamer thread, calling forth all his pain, his grief, his longing to see his loved ones again. Shaking, he roared at the thread.

It tore. The gossamer thread's broken strands floated limply in their minds, then faded to nothingness.

Hordak removed his hand from the head of the now frozen clone. He disentangled himself from the clone’s arms and stepped back. The clone stood in place, blank-faced, arms hanging limply at his sides.

“Horde Prime is gone,” the clone mumbled. “I cannot sense him. He is gone.”

Hordak turned his head and saw Kadroh holding the second clone in a bear hug. Kadroh was leaning his head forward and pressing his forehead to the clone’s head. Both clones were baring their teeth and squeezing their eyes shut. Suddenly, both gasped. Kadroh released the clone from his bear hug, and the clone stumbled forward, passive, wide-eyed. Hordak ran over and pulled the arm cannon off the clone’s arm.

“I did it. I can sever the threads too,” Kadroh gasped. He reached out to the second clone. “Brother, your soul is tormented, but you are now free—"

The clone’s ear-splitting scream interrupted him. The second clone threw his head back, and loud, heaving sobs escaped his throat. The first clone was still standing in place, silent, staring at nothing.

Meanwhile, the third clone had ordered Glimmer and Rigel into the kitchen. Glimmer stood between Rigel and the clone, arms extended to her sides.

“You, stay back! Stay where you are. Queen Glimmer, step away from him,” shouted the clone. His arm cannon was pointed to the floor between them. Glimmer refused to budge.

“ _I_ should be protecting _you_ ,” Rigel rasped to Glimmer.

“You won’t fire that canon if I’m in the way!” Glimmer argued. “You wouldn’t risk shooting me. Horde Prime would be _furious_.”

A hint of fear broke through the clone’s hard expression. Then, the second clone’s scream rang through the air, and the third clone glanced behind him, startled. It was the distraction Glimmer and Rigel needed. The third clone yelped as Glimmer threw herself around his arm canon and Rigel seized his free arm with both hands. Suddenly, Hordak seized the third clone from behind, wrapping his right arm around the clone’s neck and grasping his head with his left hand.

Their blazing minds poured into each other. Thoughts flickered rapidly, furiously: _that unclean one hid Queen Glimmer – pathogens – Horde Prime must know of my devotion – recalcitrant woman – who is in my head!?_ Jagged anger was replaced by alarm. Again, Hordak called out to his clone brother in the space between them: _Horde Prime lied to us._

Then, a third presence shone into their psychic space. Rigel’s consciousness was now watching them both, watching the green gossamer thread, watching Horde Prime’s hazy green cloud in the far distance. Awe. Fear. Curiosity.

Hordak drew in breath and focused on the thread. With a shout, he snapped the green thread and watched it fade away. When he and Rigel removed their hand from the third clone’s head, Glimmer had already pulled the canon off of the man’s arm and placed it on the island. Rigel was still grasping the man’s other arm with his right hand.

Hordak stepped back. “Rigel, release him. Brother, I couldn’t let you reveal our whereabouts to Horde Prime. Prime can no longer—”

_“Can no longer see me!”_ the third clone bellowed, spinning around to face Hordak. _“What have you done to me!? You tore me from him!”_

The third clone’s cheeks turned red as he clenched his fists. His green eyes slowly turned crimson. “What kind of devil are you? I am alone! How did you do this to me?” he screamed at Hordak.

The first clone blankly stared at Glimmer, who was now standing in front of him, speaking softly. His eyes, now crimson, seemed to look through her. The second clone was sobbing convulsively as Kadroh rested a hand on his shoulder, saying nothing. On the floor were scattered cushions and mats, a cracked arm cannon, a cannon without an owner, and a blackened laser smudge.

“You defiled them as well!” the third clone shouted. “You tore them from Horde Prime’s light!”

“No. No. No. He would not forsake us,” the first clone mumbled, shaking his head. “He will know that we were wrenched from his sight. He will make us whole again.”

Glimmer leaned closer to the dazed clone. “Does Prime know we’re here, in this apartment?”

“No.”

“Then how did you find us?”

“A man told us.”

“But Prime knows we’re on this planet. How?”

The dazed clone stared at her.

“We all saw the broadcast about Queen Glimmer and her friends,” Rigel said. “He had to know she came here, or else why alert the whole planet? She’s asking how Prime knew.”

“He broadcast that alert on every planet in the empire! Simpletons!” the angry clone hissed.

Hordak and Glimmer glanced at each other. “He doesn’t know where we went,” Glimmer realized. “He’s still in the dark.”

The second clone spoke through tears. “He—he—has to know. That you. Tore us from him.” Kadroh gazed at him softly.

“He will know that you wrenched his servants from his sight!” the angry clone warned. “Horde Prime knows all! Horde Prime sees all!”

Rigel snort-laughed bitterly. “Are you listening to yourself? He doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t even know where Queen Glimmer is.”

“No! He is all-knowing,” wept the second clone, who was rubbing his wet, reddened face with his hands. “He is perfect in his wisdom. He will find us. Make us whole.”

“He isn’t all-knowing!” Glimmer complained. “He put out an alert through the empire because he didn’t know where I was. He needs me because he doesn’t know how to use a superweapon without my help.”

The dazed clone was still staring at Glimmer, but now with a wrinkled brow. The angry clone could only sputter, “Horde Prime knows all! Horde Prime sees all!”

“Horde Prime deceived you,” Kadroh said gently. “He is a false god.”

Hordak stepped into the middle of the sitting room, exhaling loudly. He felt underneath a groove on the left shoulder of his exoskeleton, where his fingertips found a small button. He pressed the button, and the components of the armor on his left arm spread apart, connected by fine metal filaments. He lifted up his bared arm, showing everyone the narrow gap between the ulna and radius bones, the atrophied muscles, the jagged white and blue patterns on his skin. The dazed clone and weeping clone stared at him. The angry clone's eyes were now wide.

“Brother,” Kadroh whispered. “Your arm …”

“There was a genetic error in my cloning,” Hordak explained, “but Horde Prime did not know it until long after I was decanted. He created an imperfect clone without meaning to. I am living proof of his fallibility. My flesh reminded him that he was imperfect, and so he cast me out. He is not all-knowing.”

Hordak pressed the button on his left shoulder again. The armor components came back together and sealed over his arm.

“Horde Prime sent me to die on the battlefield,” Hordak continued, “but my ship fell through a spacetime anomaly into a pocket dimension, where I crashed on Etheria. For many years, I lived without his presence. I gave myself a name. I made a life of my own. I made … a friend. You will make lives for yourselves too.”

“I _do not want_ a new life!” raged the third clone. “I want to bask in his holy light again! He will not forsake his servants!”

Hordak glared at the angry clone. “I served him faithfully, and I was still cast out. I conquered in his name, and he still forsook me. We are nothing to him. He neither knows nor cares about your anguish.”

“He made you slaves,” Glimmer added, “and then used you to enslave other people. Don’t you want to be something more?”

As Hordak, Kadroh, and Glimmer pleaded with the three clones, Rigel was tapping a console on his kitchen counter. A holographic projection of a Battani woman's face appeared, hovering over the counter.

"Is everything all right?" the woman asked. "You look stressed."

"I need you and the others to come over now," Rigel replied. "Uninvited guests just came over."

"Are they--"

"No. They're not attacking. I'm not hurt. It's a long story. I need help with this."

"I hear crying. Is somebody crying?”

Hordak would remember the next few days as a whirlwind. Four of Rigel's friends from the Kopar-nik resistance cell came over later that morning. The assembled Battani somehow talked the clones down from their panic. After repeatedly reassuring them that they did not carry diseases, the Battani resisters persuaded the clones to follow them to safe houses. Arrangements were made for Rigel, Hordak, Kadroh, and Glimmer to stay at another safe house. Rigel would soon go underground, before resurfacing in another city under a new name, with the help of resistance friends. As Rigel hurriedly packed his bags, he made a point of bringing along a small envelope of morela seeds.

That night, multiple members of the resistance cell gathered at one of the safehouses, chatting excitedly with the offworlders. Glimmer told them about Etheria, the Heart of Etheria superweapon, and Horde Prime's determination to harness it. Hordak and Kadroh explained how they severed the gossamer threads binding the clones to Horde Prime. Rigel chimed in, describing what he saw when he linked with Hordak and the third clone.

Hordak and Glimmer realized that they had already attracted too much attention on Planet Kadroh, and that the danger of capture would only grow the longer they stayed. Glimmer worried that her presence at the safe houses would endanger her hosts, if she were discovered by clones.

"I'm tired of hiding. Horde Prime has invaded my home. I have to get back there," she told Hordak one night as they ate gray ration bars.

She then looked at Kadroh, who was finishing the last bite of his bar. "Kadroh, do you want to come back to Etheria with us? Or do you want to stay here with the other Battani?"

Kadroh paused. "No one ever asked me what I wanted before."

"It is your choice," Hordak said. "You have that freedom now."

Kadroh was silent for a long time, his gaze focused downward. Finally, he lifted his head. "I will return to Etheria with you. You both liberated me. I wish to follow you there."

"It's dangerous there," Glimmer reminded him.

"Correct, but it is dangerous here. I wish to show loyalty to you and Brother Hordak. _Oharada_."

Hordak was surprised, but soon found a strange comfort in the idea. " _Oharada_ ," he repeated.

When the three of them were ready to depart, their hosts packed them each a small satchel with ration bars, water, and a few avidecos. All three wore headscarves this time, now that Glimmer's face was familiar to the entire planet. When Rigel learned that they were ready to depart, he insisted on meeting with them one last time before going underground. At night, behind a warehouse, the four of them said their goodbyes.

"You're shouldering more burdens that any young person should have to," Rigel told Glimmer, "but I believe in you."

"Thank you. For everything," she replied, hugging the doctor.

Rigel patted Kadroh's arm. "Your journey's just starting. And you have good friends to help you. Good luck, Kadroh."

Kadroh smiled. "Thank you, Brother Rigel."

Rigel's face grew solemn when he stood before Hordak. "You're free from Prime, again. Don't squander this chance. For the sake of your friend and your little boy, don't make that mistake again."

Hordak held Rigel's gaze. "I won't."

"You need to fix what you broke, back on Etheria," Rigel continued. "I have faith that you will."

"I will," Hordak whispered.

The three set off through the city that night, walking some distance apart so as not to attract attention. City streets gave way to small homes, which gave way to black trees and grasses. Under high-mast lights, they followed the track for the quantum train, until they returned to the grassy clearing where their stolen ship was waiting.

Earlier, they’d plotted their strategy for returning to Etheria. When Horde Prime besieged technologically advanced planets, he placed ships in orbit around the planet, but usually not around the poles. If they portal-jumped at a distance away from Etheria, they might be able to quietly approach the planet and fly down to the surface over one of the poles. The other ships and the nearby Velvet Glove might see nothing odd about a new ship flying among the fleet, especially if Prime was still summoning reinforcements. On the other hand, their ship gave off no tracking signal. If this struck the Galactic Horde as suspicious, they could be in danger. Another portal jump and more time in hiding on a faraway planet might be necessary … if they survived.

The ship soared through the sky. Planet Kadroh's surface fell farther and farther away. Soon, they were rising above the planet, where a diamond-shaped space station and multiple ships floated in the distance.

"Our sensors cannot pick up your designation signal. Identify yourself," said a clone over the audio frequency.

Hordak piloted the ship higher.

"Identify yourself," the clone repeated.

"Initiate portal jump!" Hordak commanded.

A low tone sounded through the ship. Stars blurred and twisted as space warped around them, then faded. The ship emerged in starry space, about ten million miles from Etheria.

Minutes passed. A tense silence hung over the bridge as Hordak piloted the ship closer to Etheria. The blue and green dot in the distance grew larger, until the planet was in full view, with the Velvet Glove orbiting above. Glimmer gasped at what she saw on the giant screen. Hordak grunted, confused.

The Galactic Horde fleet had vanished.

"Prime had hundreds of ships here!" Glimmer said. "Where are they?"

"I don't know. Perhaps they landed on the surface. But Prime always keeps _some_ ships deployed above planets slated for conquest," Hordak replied, eyes narrowed.

Hordak glanced at the two holographic displays floating on either side of his head. No sensor readings. No signal from the Velvet Glove. No signals from other ships on the surface. No data on Etheria. The teleporter controls identified no planet beneath them.

"Something's wrong. Sensors are offline," he growled.

The Velvet Glove made no effort to hail the ship. Cautiously, Hordak guided the ship through Etheria's upper atmosphere. As the ship descended, oceans and green land masses came into focus.

Suddenly, a pillar of iridescent light shot out from the Salindrus Ocean in the distance. The blast of light fired into the sky for several seconds before dissipating.

"That light!" Glimmer cried out. "Did you see that?"

"Yes!" Kadroh replied, staring out the panoramic windows. "It was beautiful. Does Etheria emit light displays often?"

"No! It doesn't emit--what was that?"

"Sensors did not detect it," Hordak noticed. “I don’t like any of these developments.”

With no geospatial readings, Hordak was forced to steer the ship manually over the Whispering Woods. Soon, they emerged over the Kingdom of Bright Moon, with forests, low mountains, and a river passing underneath them. Hordak remembered the geography of the kingdom from their war, piloting the ship in the direction of Bright Moon castle. However, no castle appeared on screen. No Moonstone could be seen. Only lush forests and a small lake sat where the castle should be. Glimmer, strangely, was calm.

“There’s a clearing two miles north of here. Land there. Once we come out, I’ll lead the way,” Glimmer instructed.


	7. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hordak, Glimmer, and Kadroh land on Etheria. They find Adora, Bow, and Swift Wind battling a group of Galactic Horde battle robots. 
> 
> Content warning: mild violence and blood.

Hordak, Kadroh, and Glimmer emerged from the ship. In Hordak’s arms was a small body, wrapped in a white sheet pulled off of a cot in the ship’s sleeping quarters.

Underneath their feet were wildflowers and long grasses in many shades of green, and in the distance were broad trees and man-sized mushrooms. Overhead, the day-moon glowed gold against a cloudless blue sky. Kadroh’s eyes widened at the sight of so much greenery and the smell of earth and wind. 

“It’s just as magnificent as you described, Brother Glimmer!” he cheered.

Hordak was more astonished by Glimmer’s nonchalance.

“Glimmer,” Hordak began. “Where are we going?”

“Home,” she replied, extending her hand with fingers spread. The battle staff of King Micah materialized in her hand, a purple rod topped with an ornate crescent moon head.

“But Bright Moon castle no longer stands.”

“Do you trust me?”

Hordak grunted. He and Kadroh strode through a patch of knee-high grasses and followed Glimmer into the forests.

After a few minutes of walking, Glimmer stopped. Hordak and Kadroh came to a halt behind her. A faint smell of burning wood hung in the air. The sounds of laser fire and metallic blows burst from the willow grove up ahead. Glimmer ran toward the sounds, with Hordak and Kadroh running close behind.

In the willow grove were four battle robots, each about seven feet tall, smooth and white like the walls of the Velvet Glove. Each robot had a vaguely humanoid shape, with a single green lens sitting in the middle of its “face”. The robots fired at unseen opponents with laser rifles attached to their right arms. The lasers splintered nearby trees, leaving charred and smoking wounds in their trunks. The robots advanced, slicing through shrubs with long jointed blades in place of left arms.

Leaves rustled. An arrow lodged itself in the lens of one of the robots, exploding in a flash of fire a split second later. The three remaining robots turned and fired in the direction of the rustling leaves. Suddenly, a winged white horse sprang out from a dense patch of blooming rhododendrons, scattering pink blossoms on the forest floor. The horse reared up on his hind legs and slammed his front hooves into the blinded robot, cracking its breastplate and knocking it to the ground. The horse galloped back into the underbrush, narrowly avoiding a hail of laser fire.

Glimmer swung the battle staff in an arc, hurling a burst of white light at one of the robots. The ball of light struck the head of one robot, shattering its lens. Glimmer vanished, leaving a cloud of sparkles in her wake. Spontaneously, she rematerialized a few yards to the left, hurling another burst of light at the machines.

Hordak placed Catra’s body on the ground. “Kadroh, stay low. Do not make a sound,” he ordered his brother before racing toward the robots.

The fallen robot had since risen to its feet, sparks leaping from the crack in its breastplate. Blindly, it swung its bladed left arm to and fro, slicing the occasional shrub. The winged horse sprang again from the vegetation and slammed his front hooves into the robot’s back. The robot’s white shell cracked, and it fell face-first onto the forest floor. The horse darted back to the trees as the robot sparked, no longer moving.

Another arrow zipped through the air. It struck a robot’s head with a plume of beige dust, coating the robot’s lens with chalky powder. As the robot blindly swung its blade, Hordak charged at it from behind. The robot, hearing his footsteps, slowly turned, only for Hordak to slam his fist into the side of its head. The robot’s head toppled off its shoulders, and its body lurched to a halt. Ahead, Hordak saw a brown-skinned man with a bow and quiver, crouching in the branches of a tree, staring back at him.

“Hordak?” Bow asked.

Several yards away, a blond young woman dropped from a nearby tree, landing beside a robot. Clad in a a red jacket and gray slacks, she wielded a steel staff with both hands. She thrust the tip of the staff into the robot’s lens, shattering it. The robot fired its laser canon in the direction of her footsteps as she sprinted away in a zig-zag pattern.

Glimmer vanished and rematerialized through the canopy, flinging orbs of white light at the robot she’d blinded. Adora saw bursts of light strike the robot, denting its shell. Looking up, she saw Glimmer teleporting among the leaves.

“Glimmer!” Adora cried out, narrowly dodging a laser. “Glimmer! You’re alive!”

Glimmer materialized in front of Adora, threw her arms around her, and teleported them both away. Laser fire struck the stones and tree trunks where Adora had stood a split-second before.

Hordak raced through the trees toward the remaining robots. To his right, Bow was running between the trees as well, sprinting ahead of him. Behind him, Hordak could feel the vibrations of hooves hitting the ground. Ahead of them, he could hear Adora shouting. Words about honor, words about Grayskull.

A burst of light flashed through the trees and stones. Hordak, Bow, and Swift Wind found themselves face to face with She-Ra, glowing gold, long hair rippling in the wind. In her right hand, instead of the Sword of Protection, rested a sword of light.

The light-sword arced through the air. Metal split. Sparks crackled. The remaining robots crashed to the ground in pieces. She-Ra stood among the wreckage and the smell of ozone, staring at the light-sword glowing in her hand.

“She’s back. She never left me. She was always here,” she said breathlessly. The light-sword faded into nothingness. She looked up at Glimmer, who was standing nearby, eyes bright. “ _You’re back._ You’re safe.”

She-Ra ran to Glimmer and threw her arms around her. Bow ran to them and threw his arms around Glimmer as well.

“I’m sorry,” Glimmer whispered. “For the Heart. For the things I said. I’ll fix this, somehow.

She-Ra and Bow hugged her harder.

Swift Wind, meanwhile, hovered near Hordak. He held his muzzle close to Hordak’s head and snorted. “What are you doing here? With her?” the horse demanded to know. Hordak leaned away from the horse and snarled.

She-Ra raised her head. Glimmer extracted herself from She-Ra and Bow’s hug and walked over to Hordak and Swift Wind. She-Ra and Bow followed.

“He’s not with the Galactic Horde anymore. He helped me escape. He protected me while we were in hiding,” Glimmer explained.

Swift Wind lifted his head and glared at Hordak sideways. “ _Him_?”

Bow was wide-eyed, incredulous. “You trust him? He waged war on your kingdom! The last time I saw him, he was about to bludgeon you with a piece of concrete!”

“Glimmer, he’s a warlord,” She-Ra said slowly. “He’s the one who summoned Horde Prime.”

“I haven't forgotten that. I know how ridiculous it sounds. But I’m here thanks to his help,” Glimmer insisted.

Hordak stiffened. “I have no place in the Galactic Horde now. Horde Prime despises me. I no longer fight for him.” She-Ra, Bow, and Swift Wind were still frowning.

Hordak turned to She-Ra and drew in a sharp breath. “Is Entrapta … alive? Did you find her on Beast Island?”

“We did. She’s safe,” She-Ra replied flatly.

“So is Imp. We found him in the Fright Zone,” Bow added, still frowning.

Hordak closed his eyes and exhaled. She was alive. They were both safe. Warmth filled his limbs, and his heart beat faster.

“Hordak and I made a deal,” Glimmer explained. “He would help me escape from Horde Prime, and I would take him to Entrapta. He kept his word, and I’m going to keep mine. He’s coming back to Bright Moon with us.”

She-Ra and Bow shared a tense glance. Bow sucked in air between his teeth. “You-know-who isn’t going to like this,” She-Ra muttered.

Bow turned back to Glimmer. “There’s someone at Bright Moon who wants to meet you.”

“Who?”

“It’s better if you meet him face to face,” Bow maintained.

“Don’t you think this is a trick?” Swift Wind interjected. “Couldn’t Hordak be a spy for Horde Prime?”

Hordak folded his arms and grunted. “I assure you, I am no spy.”

“He’s not here to spy,” Glimmer replied. “He really is on the outs with Prime. And he can free clones from the hive mind. I’ve seen him do it.”

She-Ra cocked her head. “What’s a hive mind?”

“Clones? You mean the soldiers?” Bow asked..

“I’ll explain everything back at Bright Moon. But before we go, there’s more,” Glimmer added. “We made an ally. He protected me too. He’s back in the woods. And …” Glimmer hesitated, staring at She-Ra. “We weren’t the only ones Horde Prime beamed onto his ship. Catra was with us too. She … she didn’t make it.”

She-Ra’s expression went blank. “Where is she?”

“Come this way,” Hordak instructed, walking back into the forest. The others followed. Swift Wind trailed him closely.

“Kadroh!” Hordak called out. “The skirmish is over. Show yourself.”

Kadroh stood up, a splash of white and gray amidst the forest greenery. “Brothers! Did you sustain injuries?”

“No. Come meet the others.”

As Kadroh emerged from the vegetation, the others gasped.

“He’s one of them!” Bow realized. “One of the soldiers.”

“No. Not anymore. Kadroh is a friend. He doesn’t serve Horde Prime,” Glimmer said, walking to Kadroh’s side.

“Horde Prime is a deceiver and a tyrant!” Kadroh announced. “He holds me in bondage no longer.”

“We’re all about dethroning tyrants here,” Swift Wind called out, shooting Hordak a dirty look. “Are you really on board with that?”

Kadroh’s eye’s lit up, and his mouth hung open as he beheld Swift Wind. “An ungulate who speaks! You’re sapient!”

“Um, yes. I get that a lot. I’m Swift Wind.”

“Hello, Brother Swift Wind!”

“These are my other friends. This is Bow. This is She-Ra. She’s Adora when she’s not in this form. It’s complicated,” Glimmer said, gesturing to the others.

“Glimmer, where is she?” She-Ra reminded her.

“Over here,” answered Hordak, pointing behind a mountain laurel. He crouched down next to the body, gently parting the sheet to expose Catra’s head. 

“She got between me and one of the clones,” Glimmer told She-Ra. “She died protecting me.”

Hordak took several steps back as She-Ra gazed at Catra’s remains, eyes soft, saying nothing. After several moments, She-Ra knelt down next to the body.

“I healed Shadow Weaver once. Bow too. But I’ve never healed the dead. I don’t know if I can,” She-Ra said quietly. She placed her hands on either side of Catra’s face, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. Iridescent light began to glow faintly under her palms.

“Brother Glimmer,” Kadroh .

“Shhhh,” Glimmer replied.

The glow brew brighter, until both She-Ra and Catra were engulfed in shimmering light of many colors. With a blinding flash, the light dissipated. She-Ra removed her hands from Catra’s head and waited. The others looked on in silence. The forest itself seemed to watching and waiting.

A hand twitched underneath the sheet. An ear flicked slightly. The sheet rose as the body underneath drew in a long, deep breath. Catra’s eyes flew open.

“She did it,” Glimmer murmured.

Catra’s eyes were now wide and locked on She-Ra. The cat-woman sat up, freeing her arms from the sheet, mouth slightly open. She-Ra stood up and took a step back, holding Catra’s gaze.

Throwing off the sheet, Catra unsteadily rose to her feet. She quickly turned her head to and fro, taking in the Etherian forest, her clothes now stained and stiff with blood, Hordak, Glimmer, the other Rebellion warriors, and a wild-eyed clone who was holding his hands over his mouth. She ran her hand over her throat, feeling the intact skin under the bloodied fur.

“I’m … home?”

Glimmer nodded. “You’re back on Etheria.”

Hordak watched the scene unfold, awed. The She-Ra was a formidable warrior, yes, but she could also raise the dead? How? He glanced at the others, who were also dumbstruck.

Catra smiled weakly. “Hey Adora,” she said softly.

She-Ra studied Catra, then turned her gaze downward. Her eyes remained soft, while her face took on a hard and grim air.

“We’re going back to Bright Moon. Let’s go,” she said, turning her back to Catra and walking off.

Catra’s smile vanished, and her ears flattened.

The group made its way through trees and shrubs, laurels and rhododendrons, large stones and oversized fungi. At the front of the group, She-Ra, Glimmer, and Bow talked solemnly. She-Ra revealed how she thought She-Ra was gone forever after the Sword of Protection had been shattered, until the joy of Glimmer’s return awakened her powers. Every few moments, She-Ra or Bow would nervously glance to the side, scanning the area for Galactic Horde robots. Bringing up the rear were Swift Wind and Kadroh, chatting enthusiastically about “toppling unjust hierarchies” and “tearing down tyrannical lies.” In the middle of the group, Catra and Hordak walked silently, several feet apart.

“It’s … it’s good to be back here. To see familiar faces again,” Catra remarked, looking over at Hordak.

Hordak was absorbed in his own thoughts. Imp was accounted for, not lost and alone in the Fright Zone. Entrapta was alive. Soon, he would see them both. Would Imp be angry over being abandoned? Would Imp greet him with happy chirps, or hisses? He would reveal the truth to Entrapta, and offer her contrition for believing Catra’s lies. Would Entrapta hate him? Flee from him? Would she weep, thinking he had forsaken her all those months? No. He could not bear the thought of her tears. Hordak mulled these possibilities, saying nothing.

Catra’s ears flattened again, and she turned away from Hordak, gazing forward at She-Ra.

Suddenly, the ground shook. Leaves rustled and fell as the forest floor quaked. Swift Wind bent his legs, lowering his center of gravity to stay upright. Bow pressed against a nearby tree. Hordak pressed against a desk-sized stone, almost losing his footing. A flash of iridescent light beamed in the sky, far to the west. The beaming light faded, and the quaking stopped.

“Second time today!” Swift Wind shouted.

“We’ve never had more than one in a day,” a tense Bow noted. “That’s not good.”

“What just happened?” Hordak growled.

“A magical energy jet,” She-Ra replied. “Magic has been shooting out of the planet for days. It started right after Horde Prime arrived.”

Glimmer swallowed hard. “It’s the Heart of Etheria, isn’t it? Something went wrong with the Heart.”

She-Ra and Glimmer shared a wordless glance.

The shaken group hiked on in silence. Soon, they came upon a sapphire blue lake, its shores curling around low-lying forests. Hordak knew this location from his battle maps. Bright Moon Castle and the Moonstone pillar _should_ have stood in the distance, shadowed by steep cliffs and waterfalls.

“Glimmer …” he began.

“Do you trust me?” she repeated.

She-Ra, Glimmer, and Bow approached a cluster of oak trees, then vanished into thin air. Hordak, Kadroh, and Catra came to a halt.

“Go ahead,” Swift Wind instructed. “Just walk forward. Toward those trees.”

Hesitantly, the three complied. As Hordak stepped toward the oaks, his field of vision undulated. Suddenly, towering over him was Bright Moon Castle, golden, proud, soaring beside lavender cliffs. In front of the castle, a slender pillar held the Moonstone, a colossal opal that gave off a soft silver light. Standing on top of rock formations and towers were more than twenty people, barely visible from a distance. In the sky above them, magical energy lines formed intricate geometric patterns.

“Mystacore is Bright Moon’s closest ally,” Glimmer called out to them. “The castle is under a magical veil. See why I said to trust me?”

Several yards ahead, four Bright Moon soldiers were standing guard on the stone path leading to the castle. At the sight of Glimmer, they gasped and stood at attention. Glimmer spoke with them for several minutes, gesturing to Hordak, Kadroh, and Catra.

Hordak did not know what fate awaited him in that castle, but he trusted Glimmer. He trusted her to treat Kadroh well. He trusted her to keep her word about Entrapta.

Somewhere in those towering pillars were Entrapta and Imp. Soon, he would see them again. But would they want to see him?


	8. Face to Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glimmer and Micah reunite. Micah angrily confronts Hordak about his exile. Rebellion members tell Glimmer, Hordak, and Kadroh about events that have transpired on Etheria since the arrival of the Galactic Horde. Hordak comes to a startling realization.

“You’re alive! You're safe!” Castaspella cooed, throwing her arms around Glimmer. “We were terrified. Days went by. We had no idea what Horde Prime had done to you.”

Glimmer hugged her back. “It’s good to be home.”

Castaspella and Glimmer hugged for several moments outside the doors of the throne room, where the throne of Bright Moon sat. Behind them, Bow and Swift Wind looked on, relieved. She-Ra glowed faintly before reverting back to Adora. Kadroh was taking in the pastel-colored murals lining the hallway. Hordak rigidly faced forward, refusing to look at the scowling faces of the guards stationed through the hallway.

Castaspella placed her hands on Glimmer’s shoulders and scrutinized her face. “You look so pale. Did you get enough food and sleep? Oh, what if you’re anemic? I’ll bet your iron is low. I’ll tell the kitchen staff to include some leafy greens in your dinner.”

“It’s okay! I’m fine. Really.”

Castaspella’s gaze wandered over Glimmer’s shoulder, landing on Hordak and Kadroh. She winced. “What are they doing here?”

“Hordak helped me escape. He and Kadroh left the Galactic Horde.”

The mage stared at the two men, speechless, before glancing at Adora. “Does he know they’re here?” She-Ra and Bow shook their heads.

“Who’s he? Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Glimmer complained.

Castaspella removed her hands from Glimmer’s shoulders, stepped back, and opened the door to the throne room. Glimmer walked through the doors. Adora, Bow, and Swift Wind waited at the threshold, with Hordak and Kadroh standing behind them. Hordak’s height allowed him to see over Adora’s head, as a breathless scene unfolded in the throne room.

Inside the circular throne room, guards stood at attention against the rose-colored walls and gold arches. At the far end of the room, an arched opening led to a golden throne, hovering in the air hundreds of feet above the ground. On the opposite side of the room sat a gleaming gold panel covered in keyboards and screens, manned by more guards. Each screen showed a bird's eye view of some Etherian location: robots marching through the Whispering Woods, clones standing guard near the shores of Salineas, a Galactic Horde starship sitting on frozen earth in the Kingdom of Snows.

Studying one of the screens was an athletic man with long black hair, clad in a purple tunic and deep purple slacks. In his right hand, he held a wooden staff with an assymetrical head, covered in mauve blisters. Next to him was a general wearing a long rose cloak and the elaborate helmet of a Bright Moon soldier. The man and the general were discussing an overhead image of the Heart-Blossom, when the general turned her head. Noticing Glimmer, she grew quiet. A moment later, the man turned as well. Dark-eyed and bearded, the man laid eyes on Glimmer.

He froze. Glimmer froze.

“It’s you,” he whispered.

Stillness. Silence. Glimmer walked forward.

“Is this real? Are you real?” she asked softly.

Now they stood inches apart, staring into each other’s faces. With a sigh, the two collapsed into an embrace. Glimmer clung to Micah like a shipwrecked woman clinging to flotsam, holding back tears. Micah held Glimmer close, eyes shut, an exhausted smile on his face.

“You’re here,” he said faintly, his voice cracking.

Father and daughter held each other for a long time. Adora, Bow, and Swift Wind quietly entered the throne room, followed by Hordak and Kadroh.

At last, Micah opened his eyes. Across the room, standing near his Rebellion allies, was Hordak. Founder of the Etherian Horde. Leader of armies. Destroyer of villages.

“You,” Micah said.

Micah’s smile faded. The light in his eyes dimmed. He slowly untangled himself from Glimmer’s hug and strode toward Hordak.

_“You.”_

A growl rose in Micah’s throat. Micah swung his staff, flinging a purple arc of light at Hordak. Before Hordak could dodge, the purple arc struck him in the chest. Hordak was suddenly encased in harsh red light, unable to move his limbs.

_“You!”_

Micah was inches from Hordak now, clenching his teeth. Through the red glow of the spell, Hordak could see the dark circles under Micah's eyes, the lines on his face. 

“Don’t,” Adora called out. “Glimmer said he—"

“You’re the reason Horde Prime is here!” Micah roared. “You’re the reason for the war! You’re the reason I rotted on that island for years! You’re the reason I couldn’t watch my daughter grow up! YOU!”

Micah clenched his blisterwood staff. The purple glow of the staff head grew brighter as he raised it above Hordak’s head.

 _“We had a deal, Glimmer!”_ Hordak shouted.

“Stop!” Glimmer demanded.

Kadroh tackled Micah, sending him tumbling backwards. The clone clasped the king-father in a bear hug as the glow from the blisterwood staff faded. Guards charged toward them.

“I will not let you harm Brother Hordak,” Kadroh said, gently but firmly.

“EVERYONE STOP!” Glimmer bellowed.

The guards halted. Kadroh and Micah stopped struggling and stared at her, bewildered. Hordak, still encased in glowing red magical energy, was wide-eyed.

“I am still sovereign. _I_ will decide what we do with Hordak. Kadroh, let him go.” she commanded.

Kadroh released Micah, who glared at him.

Adora, Bow, and Swift Wind looked on in alarm. Glimmer stood before Hordak, tracing geometric patterns of light in the air with her right index finger. She pressed her palm to the light construct, and it vanished in a burst of silver light, along with the red glow encasing Hordak. Now free to move, Hordak clenched his fists and growled.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about! I was told you perished in battle!” Hordak contended.

“ _You_ had me captured and exiled to Beast Island!” Micah replied.

“I gave no such order!”

“Don’t lie to me!”

 _“I gave no such order,”_ Hordak repeated, slowly and forcefully. “Exile was used to punish internal offenses. Treason. Dereliction of duty. It was never used for Rebellion prisoners of war.”

Hordak huffed. “Why would I exile a bargaining chip like the King-Consort of Bright Moon? I could have demanded surrender from Queen Angella. Only a fool would exile such a valuable asset. Shadow Weaver reported that you—”

Both men’s expressions went blank.

A cold realization dawned on Hordak. “She deceived me.”

Something heavy and bitter came over Micah’s demeanor. “She betrayed me. A second time.”

Glimmer returned to Micah’s side. “Where is Shadow Weaver?”

“In her room, under heavy guard,” he answered. “When I arrived, she was sitting on your throne. I had her confined to quarters.”

Glimmer turned to the guards. “Shadow Weaver is to remain confined to quarters until further notice. Hordak and Kadroh will be housed here at Bright Moon as well. _They will not be harmed._ Is that clear?”

The guards nodded.

“Please have the housekeeping staff bring chairs into the throne room. We all have a lot to discuss.”

One of the guards left the room. Glimmer turned back to Micah. “We brought back Catra as well. She was Hordak’s second-in-command after Shadow Weaver. She was the one who … activated the portal.”

Micah glared at Hordak. “ _Your_ portal. The portal that took my wife.”

Hordak stiffened. “The portal was not ready for safe activation. Catra opened the portal without my permission. The catastrophe that followed was not part of my plan.”

“But you still let her stay on as second-in-command after that. After she nearly killed us all.”

He had. As hard as he strove to find words, Hordak had no reply.

Micah looked back at Glimmer. “Adora told me about what happened with the portal when I got back. Where is she? This Catra?”

“I had guards take her to the POW camp," Glimmer answered. "She went quietly.”

Anthro housekeepers carried in seven ornately carved rosewood chairs. Two more housekeeping staffers laid down cushions and a large woven rug for Swift Wind. As the anthros took their seats, Swift Wind repositioned cushions with his mouth before settling down on the ornate lavender rug. Hordak and Kadroh shifted around on their chairs, trying to balance their seven-foot-tall bodies on chairs designed for smaller beings.

Now, seated in a circle were Micah, Castaspella, Glimmer, Adora, Bow, Swift Wind, Hordak, and Kadroh. Hordak frowned and sat stiffly. Micah was calm, but his eyes smoldered. Glimmer’s face was drawn, and her eyelids seemed heavy. Castaspella’s gaze floated back and forth from Micah to Glimmer. Kadroh rested his hands on his lap and waited. The others looked tense and tentative.

“A lot of things happened to me – to us – while we were off-world,” Glimmer began. “I learned things about Horde Prime’s army and empire that we didn’t know before. The situation is worse than we thought.”

Glimmer glanced over at Hordak. “Before I start, you need to know why they’re here. Hordak and Catra helped me escape from the Velvet Glove. He had a falling out with Horde Prime, and he isn’t part of the Galactic Horde anymore.”

She gestured toward Kadroh. “This is Kadroh. He was born a clone soldier in Horde Prime’s army, but he turned against Prime. He and Hordak protected me. I consider him my friend, and I want all of you to treat him as such.”

“I talked with him on the way back. He sounds sincere,” Swift Wind added. Kadroh smiled.

Glimmer recounted the events of the past week, with Hordak and Kadroh offering details as needed. The expressions on the Rebellion members’ faces grew more and more horrified as the trio described the Galactic Horde. The vast technology. Horde Prime’s otherworldly origins. His hunger for the Heart of Etheria and the princesses needed to arm it. The clone army. The hive mind that kept the clones enslaved, body and soul. Hordak’s ability to sever the hive mind connection, a skill Kadroh had learned as well.

When Glimmer had finished, the others sat in stunned silence.

“We … need a new plan,” Adora finally said.

Micah placed his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face. “We do. This changes things.” He sat up straight again. “We need to bring together a war council. Very soon.”

“A lot happened here on Etheria while you were gone, too” Bow told Glimmer. “Now it’s our turn to bring you up to speed.”

Adora, Bow, Swift Wind, Castaspella, and Micah took turns recounting the events of the past week. Adora explained how she narrowly stopped the Heart of Etheria from firing, destroying the Sword of Protection and Light Hope in the process. Glimmer stared at the floor, unable to hold Adora's gaze as she recounted the crisis.

Adora had been unable to transform into She-Ra since the Sword of Protection had been destroyed. When Glimmer came to her aid in battle earlier, joy freed something inside her, and She-Ra flowed through her. Upon hearing this, Glimmer looked up at Adora, who smiled. 

The same night that Horde Prime abducted Glimmer, starships bearing the Horde symbol appeared in the sky. Citizens panicked over the new lights scattered across the night sky, and over the ships hovering overhead. Near Bright Moon, Rebellion forces were holding captured Etherian Horde soldiers in a prisoner-of-war camp, but none of the Horde soldiers knew where the starships had come from.

Hundreds of tall, sleek vessels landed on Etheria's surface, all gleaming titanium and green steel. The next day, they simultaneously projected a hologram of Horde Prime, colossal and god-like. Towering over the landscape, he demanded that the Etherians turn over She-Ra and the princesses, promising that their planet would become "the resplendent jewel of his empire" if they complied. Just as he was warning of dire consequences for refusal, earthquakes erupted in several locations. A stream of magic burst out of the planet's crust near the Kingdom of Snows, firing a jet of magical energy into the sky for several seconds. The holographic broadcast abruptly stopped.

Hours later, hundreds of Galactic Horde starships touched down on the surface. Identical soldiers clad in white, all of whom looked suspiciously like Hordak, poured out of the starships. As their battle robots scoured the landscape, the Galactic Horde soldiers swarmed the lands surrounding the Runestones. The soldiers were stronger, faster, and better armed than the Etherians, and the Rebellion forces soon found themselves on the run. One by one, the Fright Zone, the Kingdom of Snows, Plumeria, and the ruins of Salineas fell to the clones. Mystacore remained untouched due to its magical veil.

The overwhelmed princesses sought refuge at Bright Moon, the only Runestone-holding kingdom yet to fall to the Galactic Horde. A contingent of mages from Mystacore erected magical veils over Bright Moon Castle, the nearby POW camp, and a refugee camp to which Etherians from the countryside were flooding. The veils created the illusion of uninhabited forests, hiding the structures from the enemy. From time to time, Adora and Swift Wind checked in on the refugee camp, which swelled with more refugees each day.

“No one _likes_ staying in the camp, but it’s safe,” Swift Wind notes. “There’s nothing more heartbreaking than telling a nice old lady, ‘No, Razz, you can’t pick berries outside of the camp because it’s too dangerous.’”

"It's all hands on deck now," Bow explained. "Entrapta worked day and night to set up surveillance technology, so we weren't fighting them blind. That command center behind you was her handiwork," he said, pointing to the panels of keyboards and screens against the wall.

Entrapta had wasted no time constructing a fleet of drones, crafted to look like hawks and ravens, that could monitor Galactic Horde forces from the skies. When that task was complete, she created nerve induction devices to mildly enhance the strength and speed of the wearers. The devices resembled arm bands and garter belts, and were worn against the skin under clothing. Adora, Bow, and the other princesses wore them into battle, harnessing any edge they could get over the enemy. When the Rebellion brought back one of the clone's arm-mounted laser cannons, Entrapta set about studying the technology, in the hopes of recreating it. One night, she and Emily even crept near a spire to gather data, but Swift Wind admonished her never to do so unaccompanied again.

Pride swelled in Hordak's heart. Beast Island had not dampened her enthusiasm for her craft.

Now, the princesses and the other Rebellion insurgents swept the lands surrounding Bright Moon day and night, fighting off robots and clones to prevent them from piercing the magical veil. Tanks, all-terrain vehicles, and skiffs plundered from captured Etherian Horde forces made the task easier for the common Etherians. Occasionally, Rebellion forces would encounter Etherian Horde deserters in the countryside, who reported that the robots and clones attacked them as well.

In those early battles, the clones demanded to know if their opponents were princesses. The princesses answered with bolts of lightning, wrathful tree roots, whirlwinds, energy-nets, crashing waves, and ice-clad punches. Clones frequently tried to kidnap princesses after seeing displays of their powers, but so far had failed.

Silently, Hordak wondered why Horde Prime simply didn't teleport the princesses off the surface, as he did with Glimmer, Catra, and himself days before.

“Oh, and don’t forget that nice man who sings shanties!” Castaspella reminded them. With major kingdoms occupied, many of Bright Moon's supply lines had been cut. A mariner named Sea Hawk was now the head of Bright Moon's blockade runners, using plundered Horde ships to bring a trickle of supplies to the Rebellion.

Between combing the lands around Bright Moon Castle for enemies, and guarding the castle, the POW camp, and the refugee camp, Rebellion forces were stretched thin. The princesses and other warriors were exhausted, and lacked the numbers to reclaim the occupied kingdoms without leaving Bright Moon vulnerable. No matter how many robots they smashed or clones they battled, more would appear.

“He’s wearing you down,” Hordak said. “Horde Prime is fighting a war of attrition, and he knows it. Your troops are finite, while he can clone new troops each day. Your supplies are dwindling, while he can draw supplies from anywhere in the galaxy. Soon, Etheria will be too depleted to fight any longer.”

A heavy silence came over the group.

“Prime has done so on planet after planet, at least the worlds he could not overwhelm with brute force,” Hordak continued. 

“That’s not the worst part,” Adora confessed. “Every day, there’s an earthquake somewhere, and a magical energy jet erupts.”

“They’re flooding the atmosphere with magical power,” Castaspella said. “There’s more ambient magical energy in the air right now. Mages are having an easier time casting spells, which helps with the veiling.”

“The Runestones are more powerful too,” Micah pointed out. “All of the princesses can feel it.”

“I definitely felt in when I was fighting those robots earlier,” Glimmer admitted.

“Entrapta theorized that the Heart of Etheria malfunctioned when it was armed but not fired,” Bow added. “It’s old technology, and it hasn’t been maintained for centuries. She thinks the Heart’s containment field is failing. She’s pouring over her data, trying to figure out a solution.”

“Etheria’s in danger if we can’t find a way to repair the containment field,” Adora warned. “There might not be a planet left for Prime to conquer if the Heart fails.”

“But we have no idea how to fix a short-circuiting superweapon while fighting off the Galactic Horde,” Micah reminded them. “Which is why we need to convene a war council.”

Glimmer sighed and closed her eyes. “This is my fault. I’m so sorry. I will do everything I can to fix this.”

“ _We_ will fix this. All of us,” Micah said.

Hordak digested all of the new information. He narrowed his eyes. 

"It's making sense now. Why the Galactic Horde armada landed. Why the Velvet Glove ignored our arrival. Why sensors malfunctioned on our ship. Why Horde Prime won't simply teleport the princesses onto the Velvet Glove. He's been blinded," Hordak said.

The others turned to him.

"Etheria's atmosphere is saturated with large quantities of magical energy now. Galactic Horde technology was not designed to cope with magical energy," he explained. “Magic is poorly understood outside of Etheria.”

“It’s true,” Kadroh added. “It exists almost nowhere else. Even the Galactic Horde lacks working knowledge of it."

“But your Horde’s technology worked just fine, all those years you waged war on us,” Bow pointed out.

“The Etherian Horde technology _had_ to be designed to compensate for the planet’s background magic," Hordak replied. “It was one of the first obstacles I had to overcome when I arrived here.”

Hordak sat up straighter. "When we approached Etheria, our ship's sensors went offline, so the sensors on the other ships probably went offline too. They couldn’t gather readings or teleport troops down to Etheria. They had to manually transport robots and clones to the surface. That's why the armada landed en masse."

He scratched his chin with a blue talon. "The Velvet Glove's sensors must be malfunctioning as well. There’s too much magical energy in the atmosphere over Etheria. That may be why the Velvet Glove didn't hail our ship when we returned."

"Wait," Glimmer said, eyes widening. "On the day we escaped, the whole place shook and lost power for a few seconds."

"A magical energy jet must have struck it!" Kadroh realized. "If Brother Hordak is correct, that would have disrupted the Velvet Glove's systems."

"It would have, at least momentarily" Hordak agreed.

"Horde Prime's broadcast ended in the middle of his message, right around the time of the first eruption," Bow said. "Maybe that was the energy jet that did it."

“Do you realize what this means?” Adora asked, standing up from her chair. “We have an edge now!”

A wave of relief washed over the group.

“But for how long?” Micah asked. “How long does the planet have?”

Glimmer rose from her chair as well. “We have a lot to think about. We’ll develop a plan soon, when we bring everyone together. Let’s take a rest for now.” She walked to her father. “You and I have some catching up to do.”

“We do,” he agreed, standing up and taking Glimmer’s hand. Micah turned to Hordak, his expression hard and cold. “You helped Glimmer escape and kept her alive. You brought her home. She trusts you, even if I don’t. Do you want a chance to prove which side you’re on?”

“I’m no longer on Horde Prime’s side. I made that clear,” Hordak replied.

“Make it clearer. Atone for what you did here. Help us,” Micah demanded.

“Hordak, I’m not going to lie. If we get out of this in one piece, you’ll be brought before a tribunal,” Glimmer explained. “Help us with Prime and the Heart, and I will plead with the tribunal to show you leniency.”

Hordak’s heart began to race. Entrapta, Imp, and now Kadroh were all in danger from Prime’s invasion and the malfunctioning Heart. A tribunal was far off, but the dangers facing his loved ones loomed right now.

“Very well. I will help you.”

“And what about you, Kadroh?” Micah asked the young clone. “Can we trust you? Will you help us?”

“We can trust him. I trust him with my life,” Glimmer asserted, smiling at Kadroh.

“I will not stand idly by while Horde Prime oppresses another planet. I will help you as well!” the young clone announced, standing tall.

“Will Kadroh be treated well here?” Hordak asked.

“Yes!” Glimmer replied.

“I would like to remind you that we made a deal. I am ready to see Entrapta and Imp.”

Glimmer turned to the guards. “Escort him to Entrapta.”


	9. Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hordak reunites with Entrapta and Imp. He mulls his deal with Glimmer, remembering a deal he'd made with the Scorpioni high prince many years before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank kuroneko4276 for their headcanons regarding Dryl, Crypto Castle, and Entrapta's upbringing, some of which I borrowed with permission. [More here.](https://ineffablelabpartners.tumblr.com/post/639976172728483840/hating-entrapdak-cos-hordak-is-an-imperialist-is-a/)

One of the Bright Moon guards walked ahead of Hordak, leading him through the castle's pink halls and lavender stairwells. A pair of guards flanked him as he walked, saying nothing. As the group navigated the castle complex, Hordak mulled the deal he'd just made with Glimmer: assist the Rebellion in exchange for possible leniency at his war crimes tribunal. Glimmer had kept her first deal with him by bringing him to Bright Moon and permitting him to reunite with Entrapta. He trusted her to honor this deal as well.

Trustworthiness was a welcome trait in a noble. Other nobles could be deceitful. Years before, after he had crashed on Etheria, Hordak made a deal with another member of the nobility.

  
  


_He eyed them wearily. Men and women with oversized claws and scorpion tails asked him if he was injured, if he came with others of his kind. They inspected his ship, marveling at the dormant battle robots inside. The Scorpioni guards led him through the desert night to the settlement in the distance, Tip-of-the-Stinger. In his exhaustion and numbness, he did not resist._

_The settlement was a sprawling town of adobe brick buildings, tall and white with domed ceilings. At the center of Tip-of-the-Stinger, surrounded by date palms, was a white marble ziggurat, in which the high prince of the Scorpioni held court._

_"Our visitor from the sky is here!" the high prince shouted with a broad smile. The monarch was a tall, broad-shouldered man with short white hair, a white goatee, and a jovial baritone. "We thought you were injured when you didn't emerge from your sky ship."_

_The monarch was reclining on a granite throne. The gray walls behind him were painted with stylized portraits of himself and other Scorpioni men and women, all sharp angles and saturated colors. To the right of his throne stood a raven-haired woman, proud and silent, clad in scarlet armor. To his left, seated on a cushioned divan, was a white-haired Scorpioni woman in a flowing white dress. In her arms sat a chubby Scorpioni infant, dressed in gold-trimmed silks._

_"I am High Prince Leiurus of the Scorpioni,” the monarch said. “Welcome to my home. And who are you, traveler?"_

_"I am a servant of Horde Prime, Emperor of the Known Universe.”_

_Leiurus blinked. "I've heard of Queen Angella, and the princesses and high princes of the kingdoms, but I've never heard of this emperor."_

_"He rules the universe beyond your world. He sees all and knows all from his holy throne on the Velvet Glove."_

_"But there is no world beyond Etheria," Leiurus replied, amused. "There's nothing in the sky except moons. Where did you come from?"_

_“I came from the Velvet Glove. Horde Prime’s ship. Quadrant 1, sector 28:48:91.”_

_Leiurus chuckled, shaking his head. “You are a strange one, traveler. But you haven’t told me who you are.”_

_“I am a servant of Horde Prime.”_

_“I know that. What is your name?”_

_“Clones do not have names.”_

_The armor-clad woman stifled a laugh. The woman holding an infant parted her lips, clearly uncomfortable. Leiurus stared at the clone, then laughed._

_“You don’t have a name, and you come from beyond the world. All right, traveler. Where were you going when you crashed?”_

_"I was leading a fleet of automated ships. I was to pour Prime’s wrath upon the Toevah revolt, on the front lines outside the Aristarchus system."_

_“Leading ships to battle? So you’re a general?”_

_The word was unfamiliar. “General?”_

_“Like my daughter-in-law, Chactida,” Leiurus explained, gesturing to the armored woman standing beside his throne. “She commands units. She leads troops into battle. You were leading other ships into battle?”_

_“I was.”_

_“Ah, so you are a general!” Leiurus concluded. “And you’ve been separated from your troops, from your emperor. You’re alone in a foreign land.”_

_The clone said nothing._

_“But I’m a benevolent man,” Leiurus continued. “You won’t have to fend for yourself here. I offer you my hospitality.”_

_Leiurus rose from his throne and descended from the stone dais on which it sat. "We can help each other. I propose an arrangement between the two of us."_

_The monarch now stood in front of the clone, smiling warmly. "Your sky ship is like nothing Etheria has ever seen. The guards told me all about the marvels on board your ship. Robots, like Dryl has, but larger, sleeker. Make technology like that for my kingdom, and I'll give you anything you desire."_

_Leiurus' dark eyes sparkled. "Make me weapons, flying machines, robot soldiers. Make my kingdom the strongest on Etheria, and you can have anything you wish. Land. Gold. Slaves. Anything."_

_The clone pondered the offer. The absence of stars, the prince's ignorance of the cosmos, the sudden severing of his hive mind connection meant one thing. He had fallen into a pocket dimension. He would need to repair the ship before he could perform a portal jump back to the wider universe. With enough raw materials, he could still carry out Prime’s will._

_"I will do so for materials to repair my ship. Titanium, steel, and carrefourium. Will you give me these materials?"_

_Leiurus clasped his claws together. "Of course! We have a deal, then."_

  
  


The guards led Hordak outside. Many hours had passed since he landed on Etheria, and the day-moon was setting against a pink and orange sky. The guards led him down pristine white staircases, past domed towers and lush trees.

His breathing had quickened, and his heart beat faster. He would see them soon, Imp and Entrapta. Whether their faces wore relief, or sorrow, or anger, he needed to see them. They could berate him for abandoning them, chastise him with sharp words and shrieks. He would accept it all without complaint, just to see them both alive and safe.

  
  


_Outside the banquet hall’s wide windows, the day-moon was setting against a pink and orange sky. Gold light fell a long marble table decked with flatbreads, spiced meats, all manner of soups and stews, dates, sliced melons, and pomegranates. Seated on backless chairs, two dozen Scorpioni nobility ate, drank wine, and chatted excitedly. The court mage -- a bald, middle-aged man with pointed ears and gray skin, clad in blue robes -- sat among them, feasting. A menagerie of slaves replenished food, filled wine cups, and carried away bones and fruit rinds: cat-folk, sea elves, reptilians, and the occasional anthro. All of the slaves wore gray silk tunics and went about their duties with downcast eyes. In the corner, a squid-man strummed on a lute while a bear-woman slapped the head of a goblet-shaped drum._

_At the head of the table sat Leiurus, savoring a slice of pink meat. To his left sat the clone, numbly eyeing the table of food, his plate empty. To his right sat his daughter, Princess Zabia, who exchanged soft words and tender glances with her wife, General Chactida. On Chactida’s lap sat their baby daughter, Scorpia, whom Chactida was feeding spoonfuls of pulverized vegetables and tubers. The court mage had used fertility “magic” to allow the two women to bring forth a child together, the clone would later learn._

_Zabia’s warmth vanished when a reptilian man extended an earthenware mug to her. She swatted the mug out of his hands with her claw, sending the mug crashing to the floor._

_“This is dawnherb tea. I told you to bring me fangleaf tea,” she said coldly. The reptilian man silently wiped up the spilled tea and picked up fragments of the broken mug._

_“Some of these slaves aren’t very bright, so you’ll have to be patient with them,” Leiurus said to the clone. “Eat something! This banquet is in your honor. You must be hungry.”_

_It was true. The clone’s liquid rations had run out the previous day. Before him were unclean foods, fit only for lower races. Partaking of the food would be a sin against Prime, but his empty stomach begged for nourishment. If he starved himself, he realized, he would never leave Etheria, never carry out Prime’s command to die on the front lines of the Toevah revolt. He was a flawed clone, an abomination; perhaps it was only right that he debase himself with lesser food._

_The clone plucked a slice of green melon from a platter to his left. He held it with trembling hands. Finally, he sank his teeth into it. The flesh was sweet, juicy, messy, wicked._

_“You and I are going to do amazing things together,” Leiurus remarked, reaching for a platter of flatbread. “Your creations will help me put down those insurgents once and for all.”_

_The melon rind, denuded of its flesh, slid out of the clone’s fingers onto the plate. His cheeks were red with shame, but his stomach rejoiced._

_“May Horde Prime forgive me,” the clone whispered. With self-loathing and a watering mouth, he devoured a second melon slice._

_Leiurus swallowed a bite of flatbread. “Those slaves refuse to accept their place. Zabia and my army have been trying to put them down for over a year. But soon, they’ll kneel.”_

_The high prince leaned toward the clone. “You can’t let the rabble get out of control. That was Dryl’s mistake, and look at them now.”_

_“Dryl?” the clone asked._

_“A kingdom to the northwest. Our closest trading partner. The Medusae nobles were all assassinated, except for the royal family. The king and queen weren’t ruthless enough with all the commoner uprisings.”_

_Leiurus’ face grew solemn. "Do you know how bad it got? The royal castle is rigged with deadly traps. To stop rioters from reaching the interior. I visited once. It's a technological marvel. The king and queen only eat tiny foods. If a commoner tries to poison them, they’ll have only eaten a small amount of poison that way. They give their daughter carbonated drinks, so any poisons will float to the surface. A pair of robotic nannies care for the girl, because they don’t trust any of the commoners to watch her.”_

_The high prince sat up straight. “Is that any way to live? Constantly in fear of your inferiors? No. I won’t let Scorpia grow up in a kingdom like that,” he said firmly, gesturing to his baby granddaughter. “And that, traveler, is where your technology comes in.”_

  
  


The guards led Hordak to an open air courtyard beside one of the towers. The courtyard was paved with lavender stones and flanked on either side by flowering rhododendrons. Hundreds of feet away, at the far end of the courtyard sat two tan tents. Beyond the courtyard, a diamond-shaped spacecraft rested in a grassy clearing, bluish-gray against the pink sky.

In front of one of the shrubs was a spherical green robot, its display screen glowing pink: Emily. Someone had fashioned a flower crown out of pink rhododendron flowers and placed it on top of Emily. Imp was kneeling next to Emily, digging in the dirt with a twig.

Hordak drew in breath. “Imp?”

Emily beeped and spun around. The little boy looked up from the dirt, and his eyes widened when he saw Hordak. With a shriek, Imp took to the air. A moment later, his tiny arms were wrapped around Hordak’s neck in a hug. Imp chirped, pressing his face to Hordak’s face.

“I missed you too, Little Spy,” Hordak whispered. He supported Imp with his left forearm, petting the boy’s head with his right.

“(There you are! You’re okay! I’m so glad I found you!)” the boy replayed. Hordak immediately recognized the voice as Entrapta’s.

“Horde Prime beamed me into his ship,” Hordak told the child, “but I escaped, and I’m here now.”

In spite of his disappearance, in spite of all the chaos that followed, his Little Spy still loved him. Hordak did not understand why. He could only hold the boy close for several minutes, stroking his head, feeling the warmth of the boy’s cheek on his face, saying nothing.

He would fight for this, Hordak thought to himself. He would fight Horde Prime for this feeling. For this little boy. For a planet where this boy could live.

Hordak looked up at the guards. “I … appreciate … your humane treatment … of Imp,” he said haltingly. “It was … generous of Bright Moon to take him in.”

Imp removed his arms from Hordak’s neck and fluttered back to Emily, who was beeping loudly and tapping the ground with her legs. Imp perched on top of Emily and smiled wickedly, pointing in the direction of the tents.

“(Entrapta.)” Imp replayed in Hordak’s voice. Then, in Bow’s voice, “(You need to see this.)”

Emily trotted toward the tents, carrying Imp. Hordak and the guards followed. Halfway down the courtyard, Hordak stopped, turning toward the guards.

“I wish to have privacy when I speak with Entrapta,” he stated. “I will not attempt to flee. You have my word.”

“Go,” replied one of the guards. “We’ll watch you from here.”

Imp and Emily had come to a halt about thirty feet from one of the tents. The little boy smiled at Hordak, watching and waiting.

The entrance to one of the tents had been tied open, and inside, a woman in violet overalls with large fuchsia twintails stood with her back to them. Her head was bowed, and her arms moved as she busied herself with a task.

Hordak’s breathing quickened again, and he felt warm underneath his exoskeleton. A thrill ran up his spine. He swallowed, before struggling to bring her name to his lips.

“Entrapta.”

The woman’s arms froze. Her hair bristled. She lifted her head.

“Entrapta,” he repeated, taking a step toward the tent. “I … I did not know. I didn’t know you’d been banished to Beast Island.”

Entrapta quickly turned around. Her mouth was open slightly. Her wide-eyed gaze met his. The sight of the red eyes, the tan skin, the curves of her face sent adrenaline coursing through his limbs. 

“I would have retrieved you, had I known,” he said, taking another step. The words ached as they rose from his throat. “Catra deceived me. She told me you had rejoined the Rebellion. I thought you were among the princesses. I was a fool … to believe her.”

Entrapta stared at him, wide-eyed, silent.

Suddenly, she burst out of the tent, bounding toward him, using her prehensile hair to carry her forward.

Hordak closed his eyes and exhaled. Finally, he had seen her face and told her the truth. He braced himself, expecting a slap, or a barrage of furious words. But neither came.

He gasped as Entrapta collided with him. Her arms wrapped around his torso, holding him firmly. Fuchsia hair wrapped around his shoulders. 

“You came back to me!” she shouted, tightly pressing her face to his chest.

Hordak looked down at Entrapta, breathless. He swallowed hard. “You … you still …”

“Scorpia told me everything!” Tears raced down her cheek. “All those months, I thought you hated me, and that I’d failed again, but after they rescued me, Scorpia told me what really happened, and then I knew … you hadn’t …”

Entrapta’s rapid-fire words gave way to sobbing. She clung to him tighter, weeping into his chest. Hordak felt his chin quivering. Tears poured out of his eyes. A loud whimper escaped him. Slowly, his arms encased her. As the day-moon set, they held each other, crying.

He would fight Horde Prime for her as well.


End file.
